


The Companion

by Isabella2004



Category: Deadwood
Genre: Angst, F/M, Romance, Sex, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-12
Updated: 2020-06-19
Packaged: 2021-03-03 20:54:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 17
Words: 57,272
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24681910
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Isabella2004/pseuds/Isabella2004
Summary: As his presence continues to unsettle the camp, George Hearst enlists Catherine's help in a task close to home. Meanwhile, Al reaches a decision about the future of his marriage and contemplates revealing a terrible secret to his wife.Continuation of 'Hell of A Place' and 'A Fragile Life.'
Relationships: Al Swearengen/OC
Kudos: 2





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is the third in my Deadwood series following on from 'Hell of A Place' and 'A Fragile Life.'  
> As with the others, this story loosely follows events in the series though some dates and issues may differ.  
> Currently a work in progress.

July 28th 1876

"Fucking prick..."

Al Swearengen muttered softly to himself as he stood at the pisspot, attempting the morning flow. In weeks of late, he had found it more and more challenging to make water, even at times when he should have been lucky to reach it in time. He took his prick in his hand and shook it, as though the action might encourage it to do something. It failed to respond and so, he re-buttoned the flap on his duds, pulled on his pants, waistcoat and boots and made his way out onto the balcony to greet the new day.

Below him in the thoroughfare, the traders were setting up for the day's business. They called good-naturedly to each other as they did so and Al inclined his head in greeting as Seth Bullock walked past, accompanying his wife to her duties at the schoolhouse.

"Good morning, Mr Swearengen," she called up, upon seeing him.

"Mrs Bullock," he greeted her. He watched as they progressed, arm in arm, until out of sight and thought over how remarkable it was that Bullock had managed to retain a marriage in the wake of an affair with the Mrs Ellsworth. For sure, Martha Bullock must know of what transpired between her husband and the other woman and, yet, there were never any signs of rancour in their public displays.

"Good morning."

He turned to see his wife, Catherine, at the balcony door, dressed in her chemise, a shawl pulled around her shoulders, her hair falling around her face. "Morning," he replied by way of greeting." She stepped out onto the balcony beside him, her hand automatically moving to rest atop his on the balustrade. He moved away at her touch, and though avoiding her gaze, knew that she had noted the action.

"What are your intentions for today?" he asked, turning to face her and yet leaving a distance between them that protected himself more than her.

"I thought I might visit Joanie," Catherine replied, once she had recovered herself. "It's been some time now since I've spoken with her...once I've seen to the girls, of course...unless you have an objection?

He paused on her expression, one which he would almost have said was pleading for him to have such an objection. "You can do as you fucking well please if you feel well enough."

"I do," she replied.

"Then by all means, sally forth and spend the morning with her." He moved past her back into the office and lifted his jacket from the chair by the bed.

She followed him inside. "Al..."

"What's he trying to say with that hole in the fucking hotel wall, huh?" he interrupted her, pointing back out the door across to the Central Hotel. Mere days after he had arrived in camp, George Hearst had stunned them all by taking sledgehammer to the wall and knocking a hole big enough for him to climb through and stand on the lower roof, surveying the camp."Is he trying to make some kind of a fucking point?"

"Presumably he didn't tell you of his plans when you met him," Catherine replied.

"Not a word. Though truth be told, our meeting was brief," Al replied, leaning against the doorframe, recalling the short meeting facilitated by E.B. "His intentions in camp will no doubt become all too clear in due course and yet I find myself fucking mystified at present as to why he hasn't made advances towards Mrs Ellsworth over her claim."

"Perhaps he has," Catherine reasoned. "Reason stands that you can't always know the goings on of all of the residents all of the time."

"No," Al shook his head. "E.B. would have informed on the matter if overtures had been made. This...stillness...unsettles me." He felt her hand on his back, her cheek resting against him and, for a brief moment, he thought about turning, taking her in his arms and satisfying himself with her body as he knew she craved. Sense won out, however and he moved away from her. "Take as long as you like with Miss Stubbs. You ain't needed here this morning." Turning away from her hurt expression, he left the office and made his way downstairs.

Only a few early morning hardened drinkers were present and the 'tit-licker' had just finished his morning ritual and was fleeing for the door, by the time Al approached the bar.

"Regular as fucking clockwork," Dan stated, pouring his boss a drink.

"Best way to be, Dan," Al replied. He glanced up at the closed office door and imagined Catherine behind it, struggling to hold back her tears the way he had seen her do on so many occasions of late. It gave him no pleasure to act as he did and yet, there seemed no alternative. He witnessed the efforts that she made to entice him night after night and, though there were moments such as this morning when he felt he might be able to forget the past, they were short lived. Having her returned to him had been his fervent prayer, but now that she was well again, he feared disaster of the same kind befalling her.

The only way he knew to prevent agony of the same ilk was to remove himself from her completely. There could be no mistakes, no accidents. Allowing himself to feel for her only awakened the possibility of another child and more sickness and that he knew he could not bear.

"I'm going to the hardware store shortly to see Bullock," he said, draining his glass.

"What for?" Dan asked.

"None of your fucking business."

XXXX

As she made her way along the thoroughfare towards Shaughnessy's, where Joanie was now installed having generously loaned the now defunct Chez Ami to be used as the schoolhouse, Catherine couldn't help the pierce of bitter tears behind her eyes. As the days passed, Al grew more and more distant towards her. Conversation was limited to the whores or wonderments about Hearst. They spoke of nothing personal and, since her return to health, he had made no advance towards her.

It wasn't for a lack of effort on her part. Thinking he held the vision of her in her sickbed in his mind, preventing him from acting, she tried to ensure that her hair sat nicely, that there was perfume on her décolletage and that her body was well presented for him. It appeared to make no odds. He spent as little time in her company as he could and every night, he turned his back on her without so much as a gentle touch. She had hoped and prayed that his mood would pass, desperately needing to feel his arms around her, his mouth at her ear and, least she admit, his prick in her pussy. But as time rolled on, she had begun to fear that life would never return to that which it was before. On every occasion that she tried to broach the subject with him, he always found reason to turn the conversation to a different topic, as evidenced that very morning.

When she reached Joanie's room, the other woman greeted her warmly and invited her in where a plain tea-tray awaited her. She sat in the one chair in the room while Joanie perched on the bed and, for a while, they talked of meaningless things. What was happening in the camp, how she had found Tolliver of late and, of course, Hearst's arrival.

"How are things going?" Joanie asked carefully, after polite conversation had been exhausted. "With you and Al, I mean."

"All right," Catherine replied, looking away, somewhat embarrassed. "He's courteous to me, which I suppose I should be grateful for, but...as for the other..." she trailed off and looked down into her coffee cup. "It's as though we were mere acquaintances rather than husband and wife."

"Maybe...maybe it's just hard for him," Joanie opined. "I mean, seeing you sick and the like, especially knowing that you lost the child."

"Maybe, but there's more to it than that. I can't really describe it suffice to say that the atmosphere between us has changed so irrevocably. He lies beside me every night like a stranger and yet...to my knowledge...he ain't using any of the girls so..." she shrugged. "I don't rightly know what to think."

"I reckon time is all he needs," Joanie said encouragingly. "Any fool can see he loves you. I bet you he ain't about to let a little thing like this get in the way of your being together."

"I hope so," Catherine replied, though she remained unconvinced. "But enough about my fucking problems. What about you? Have you and Mr Utter discussed a future together yet?"

Joanie blushed, "Not in so many words, no."

"But you are hopeful."

"I imagine it would be pleasant being in Mr Utter's company, especially after so many years with Cy."

Catherine shuddered slightly as she thought of the life her friend had lived. All those years being bullied by Tolliver and then her friends, Mattie included, butchered by Hearst's geologist.

Perhaps she should be grateful for her lot with Al, satisfying or not.

XXXX

"Good afternoon Mrs Swearengen!"

Catherine paused as she made her way back along the thoroughfare to the Gem an hour later and looked around to identify the owner of the voice. Shielding her eyes from the sun, she looked up above her to see Hearst, standing atop the hotel, looking down at her, his hands thrust into the pockets of his pants. "Good afternoon, Mr Hearst," she replied carefully, for truth be told, it was the first time she had had any direct conversation with the man.

"Fine day, ain't it?"

"Yes, it is."

"I was hoping that you might be able to spare me a few moments of your time to discuss a rather delicate matter."

"Well, I..." she glanced over to the Gem balcony, but there was no sign of Al.

"If you have concern for Mr Swearengen, I understand him to be in the hardware store with Sheriff Bullock at present," Hearst said. "What I have to say need only take a few moments."

Catherine weighed up the situation. Were she to ask Al in advance before venturing to speak to Hearst, she had no doubt that he would caution against it most fervently. At least, she assumed he would. And yet his manner towards her of late led her to think that perhaps he might have no opinion at all on the subject. "All right," she replied finally.

"I'm glad. Please come inside and venture to room six," Hearst said.

She made her way out of the afternoon glare of the thoroughfare and into the hotel. Thankfully, E.B was not on the desk, for she could be certain at his intrigue were he to discover her purpose. She climbed the stairs slowly, rounded the corner and found that he already had the door open awaiting her arrival.

"I'm grateful to you for acceding to my request, Mrs Swearengen," Hearst said, allowing her to enter and leaving the door ajar. "I have been considering this matter for some time now and was hoping that you might be willing to help me."

"That depends on what you intend asking of me," she replied glancing around.

"Of course. Won't you sit down?" he gestured to a chair opposite his desk. She paused and then slowly did as he asked. "I'm aware that you have been a resident of the camp for some time now, am I right?"

"Yes, almost a year," she replied.

"Both before and after your marriage?"

"Yes."

"Then you must feel you know it well."

"I suppose I do."

"My wife Phoebe, Mrs Hearst, rarely travels with me," he explained. "Caring for our son William has always been her main priority and rightly so. I'm aware, however, that she finds it difficult when I am away for extended periods of time, as I have been over these last few years. Our son is now of an age to attend boarding school back east and Mrs Hearst has declared an interest to come and join me in the camp for the time that I will be stationed here."

"Oh," Catherine said. "That will be pleasant company for you, I'm sure."

"Indeed," he agreed. "The difficulty arises in that my business activities keep me occupied on a day to day basis, meaning I would be unable to spend as much time with her as I would like. Whilst I appreciate the good nature of many in the camp, it is not a place where I would wish my wife to venture out alone and that is the purpose for which I seek your assistance."

Catherine stared at him, "I'm not sure I understand your request."

"It's very simple, Mrs Swearengen. I would like you to act as companion to my wife upon her arrival." She must have shown her surprise as he chuckled good-naturedly. "You seem taken aback by the request."

"I suppose I am," she replied honestly. "Your wife..."

"Is close to you in age though some ten years your senior," he interrupted her. "Marriage to an older man is a situation to which you find yourself common to her."

"Oh," she said again, surprised by this revelation. She had thought that whoever bore the wedding ring of George Hearst would be a woman nearer his own age, a worldly woman, sharing his views and values.

"Do you give me an answer now?" he asked

"Well..." she hesitated. "I am not a woman who spends her days simply lounging in the Gem watching as the world passes by, Mr Hearst. Approve or otherwise, but I am a whoremistress with daily duties in the saloon."

"I understand that perfectly," he said, "and I would not wish to take advantage of your time. Which is why I am prepared to remunerate you for this service to me." He pulled a scrap of paper towards him, scribbled a figure down on it and pushed it across the table towards her. "Would this be acceptable?"

Catherine stared at the sum offered. It was more than she had ever been expected to be paid for any service, least of all simply acting as companion to another woman. "I..."

"Do you wish to discuss the matter with Mr Swearengen?" Hearst asked. "I would not assign blame if you felt a decision could not be made without such recourse."

She bristled at the implication and could only look back on Al's cool attitude towards her of late. "I do not need to seek his permission, Mr Hearst. I do as I please." She nodded. "I would be glad to make your wife's acquaintance and to familiarise her with the camp."

"Splendid!" he clapped his hands together and got to his feet, forcing her to stand also. "Shall we shake on it? I see in you a shrewd businesswoman who would not consider the matter settled until such gesture had been made."

Catherine looked at his outstretched hand for a moment before clasping it in her own. "When does Mrs Hearst arrive?"

"On tomorrow's stagecoach, so it is fortunate indeed that I was able to speak with you today," Hearst said, ushering her to the door. "Please do give my warmest regards to your husband. I will send Captain Turner to the Gem tomorrow once my wife has recovered from her travels so that you may make her acquaintance without delay."

"All right then," she replied, before turning and making her way back down the stairs and out into the warm sunshine. Her head spun as she crossed the thoroughfare and stepped back inside the Gem.

What in Christ's name had she just agreed to?

XXXX

Oblivious to the conversation taking place between Catherine and Hearst, Al was grateful to find Seth alone in the hardware store upon his arrival. He had nothing against Sol Star, but the nature of the conversation was to be delicate and he preferred as little an audience as possible.

Seth started upon seeing him and hurried over. "Hearst?" he asked.

"To that matter there is no update since last we spoke," Al replied. "I still ain't worked out his purpose nor do I detect any advances towards Mrs Ellsworth. My visit to you today is of a personal nature."

"A personal nature?"

"Yes. You'll remember, I hope, a certain document I had you sign and witness before my marriage to Catherine these months past?"

"Yes."

"I trust you still have it."

"In the safe, of course. Is there some difficulty? She is not unwell again I hope."

"Her health improves daily, "Al replied. "But I'd like to see it, if I may." Seth cocked his head to one side suspiciously, but did as he was asked. Al waited while he opened the safe and retrieved the document in question, handing it over within moments. Al opened it, read and reread the words contained therein. "As I remember," he said. "I may ask you to witness a document of another kind shortly."

"What kind of document?"

"One authorising a half share of the Gem to be passed to Catherine in cash or gold as she prefers. My intentions remain as provided for in this document. Despite law to the contrary, our marriage would not negate her share in the Gem and, on the occasion of divorce, would remain hers without question."

Seth stared at him, "By that remark, am I to conclude you intend to divorce?"

Al folded the document carefully and placed it in his inside pocket. "Moment comes for us to part ways...I'd appreciate your being present to ensure I fulfil my promise thus decreed."

"I got no difficulty with that, but..."

"As I said to you the morning you signed this, it wasn't my first foray into matrimony. I have become somewhat accustomed to the ritual of a coming together and a parting of the ways." Al knew the other man wanted to ask more, but was grateful for his restraint.

"I'm sorry," was all he said.

"Your apologies are noted and gratefully received," Al replied. "I'm sure this goes without saying, but the least said of this amongst camp members...would be all the better for a smooth transition."

"You got my word as silence," Seth assured him.

"I thank you for that," Al said. Without resorting to further explanations, he turned and made his way out of the hardware store and along the thoroughfare towards the Gem. As he approached, he happened to glance up at the hotel and saw Hearst, poised on the rooftop, watching him with interest.

"Mr Swearengen," Hearst greeted him calmly.

"Mr Hearst," Al replied. He continued his way on into the Gem, where he found Catherine at the bar, shifting nervously from foot to foot, her face lighting up when she saw him with something akin to relief. She hurried forward and he feared she might attempt to embrace him.

His fears were unfounded. "I must speak with you," she said quietly.

Al sighed heavily, the moment upon him. "And I with you."


	2. Chapter 2

"Hearst called to me this afternoon," Catherine revealed before Al had even closed the office door. She had been nervous about revealing her news and his absence from the Gem upon her return had only caused more anxiety. Now the words were tripping from her tongue, she felt the better for it.

"In what sense, called?" Al asked, moving around his desk.

"From his vantage point atop the hotel as I was making my way back here from Shaughnessy's." She gripped the back of the vacant chair. "He wanted to discuss a proposition with me."

"He wanted to discuss a proposition with you in the thoroughfare?"

"No, I went to his chamber."

Al paused and stared at her. "Have you lost your fucking mind? To be considering being alone with any man in his chamber shows lack of a reasoned mind from a woman who doesn't offer herself to him for money, but with a man such as he..."

"It was broad daylight, Al," she replied, rolling her eyes, "the hotel was busy and, what's more, he left the door ajar."

"Oh well, if he left the door ajar..." his voice dripped sarcasm. "At least someone would have been able to come to your aid in the immediate aftermath of whatever he may have considered appropriate to subject you to."

"Do you want to fucking hear this or would you prefer to simply ridicule me?"

"Please proceed." He sat down and bade her do likewise. "What proposition did he have for you?"

"His wife is due to join him in camp and, fearing for her safety and wellbeing, he wished to employ me as companion to her being, as I suppose, a woman he considers she would warm to." She raised her chin defiantly, awaiting his rebuke. "He intends to pay me and I agreed to his terms."

"Uh huh..." Al pulled a bottle and two glasses from his drawer and set them on the table. "And you agreed to this without recourse to my approval or opinion?"

"I don't believe I am bound to gain your approval for any of my actions." Especially not now, she wanted to add, in light of your indifference. He looked at her for a long moment, as though reading her mind. She wanted to say something, anything, to bring him to a confession of his feelings, but the moment was swiftly lost.

"Fucking Hearst," he said, downing a glass and pouring himself another. "Throws me a curveball like that and sits back to await my response..." he sat back in the chair and rubbed his chin pensively.

"Response has already been given by my agreeing to his request," Catherine replied, draining her own glass. "She's arriving on tomorrow's stage and that Captain that he has following him about will advise me as to when she is ready to receive me."

"You and he have it all worked out, haven't you?"

She blushed and looked away at the suggestion of a conspiracy. "It ain't like that, as well you know."

"One supposes this could present an opportunity for us," Al mused, sitting forwards again. "To have you ensconced in Hearst's premises, companion to his wife...plenty of opportunity for you to be watchful and observant and report to me anything you might hear about his plans for the camp or its citizens."

"That ain't why..."

"Indeed, he clearly harbours no suspicion towards you, being married to me as you are, otherwise he would not have offered the position." He refilled her glass and slid it towards her companionably.

"That ain't why I agreed to the offer," she said.

"No...I'm sure your head was turned with the idea of making a new friend in camp," he replied patronisingly. "But contrary to what you may believe, Cathy, you have a purpose here and an opportunity presenting itself like this to you ain't to be ignored."

Catherine sighed heavily, knowing there was little use in arguing with him on the matter. "I suppose...if the opportunity presented itself for my learning anything..."

"Now that's more the attitude I fucking expect," he said, re-corking the bottle and returning it to the drawer. "Doc's down seeing to the whores. Not to detract from your new position, but your old one here still requires fulfilling." Wordlessly she got to her feet and left the room, leaving him to ponder the document still safely tucked into his pocket and the fact that new developments could only serve to leave his plans on hold for the moment.

XXXX

"That's a nasty bite Jen has on her arm," Doc observed, directing Catherine's attention to it in the whores' room.

"I know," she replied, looking at the mark and wincing at the memory of the whore's scream of agony but a few days ago. "Fucking hooplehead taking fucking liberties. Johnny saw him off though." She smiled reassuringly at the other woman. "He's turning out to be Jen's knight in shining armour."

Jen smiled in return but said nothing.

"I'll be keeping my eye on you," Doc said, handing Jen some cream. "Make sure you put this on it and keep a watch for infection." He got to his feet and turned to Catherine. "How are you doing?"

"Fine," she replied. "Feeling much better."

"I'm delighted to hear it." He drew her away from the others. "Have you and Al...resumed marital relations? I ask, not out of perverted curiosity, but from a purely medical perspective. Any problems you might be having..."

"No," she replied hurriedly. "That...hasn't happened yet."

"I see. Well, when it does, if you suffer prolonged discomfort or bleeding, you must come see me. Too many women in your situation suffer in silence and there is no embarrassment needed."

"Thanks, Doc," she said, though it seemed unlikely at the present moment that such a visit would be required. She left Doc to finish up his work and made her way back into the bar, now thronged with customers, where the first person to catch her attention was Harry Manning.

"Mrs Swearengen!" he hurried forward to her. "It's...uh...it's good to see you looking so well."

"Thank you, Mr Manning, though I have seen you on several occasions over the last few weeks," she reminded him.

"Oh...uh...yeah..." Harry shifted nervously. "I...I wanted you to know that...well...I...I've asked Miss Lewis for her hand and she's accepted me."

Catherine thought on the flower seller, Milly Lewis, a pretty young thing with an open face and pleasant manner. She would be ideal for Harry. "I'm happy for you both," she said. "Please give my congratulations to Miss Lewis when you next see her."

"I will...thank you..." he hovered for another few seconds before turning and making his way to the door.

"Why'd he tell you that?" Catherine turned to see Dolly hovering by her shoulder.

"No idea."

"Maybe he thought you'd be jealous."

She laughed shortly, "A misguided opinion if ever I heard one."

"You and Al ain't fucking."

Catherine stared at the other woman, taken aback by the baldness of her statement.

"I heard what you said to Doc."

"That ain't your business."

Dolly pulled her thin shawl tighter around her shoulders. "Reckon we should know if the task is going to fall to us again."

"That ain't your business, Dolly," Catherine repeated, her voice tight. "You mention it again, it ain't just Al you'll need to deal with." Dolly scurried away and she found herself leaning on the bar for support. It was the first time she had ever threatened one of the girls and the words didn't sit easy with her. The fact that they were aware, that they felt justified to comment...she looked up at the closed office door and thought about the man therein. The man she was beginning to feel like she no longer knew.

XXXX

"You make sure you keep your eyes and ears fucking open," Al said, as he undressed that night at his side of the bed. "Least little thing you think important you relay to me for my consideration. Anything she might say about Hearst or his intentions or anything you might overhear him say to her. Anything, you understand?"

"Don't talk to me like I'm one of the whores sent to do your bidding," Catherine replied acerbically from behind the day's edition of The Pioneer. If he had said these words to her once, he had said them a thousand times. "I agreed to keep a watchful eye and ear but my primary purpose is to meet Mrs Hearst and companion her as requested, not go sneaking around the hotel seeking information."

"Remember who you're fucking married to," he reminded her, his tone sharp.

"As if I could fucking forget," she replied. The newspaper was suddenly snatched from in front of her face, causing her to gasp as he appeared at her own side of the bed. "Jesus, Al..."

"Fucking loyalty, Catherine, and don't you ever forget it!" He loomed over her. "You ain't going over there to make a new friend and take tea and pass yourself off as some fucking well-to-do type. You're going over there to take advantage and to see what you can fucking learn about Hearst and his intentions in the camp!"

It was the most alive she had seen him for weeks and his animation over the fact only served to arouse her starved body. Before he could react, she leapt to her feet, pulled her chemise over her head and threw herself at him, somewhat inelegantly. Her arms snaked around his neck, pulling his mouth to hers, and she pressed her naked body against him. For a moment, he responded to her, his mouth hard against her own, his hands straying to her buttocks and pulling her forcibly against his pelvis, causing her to moan at the sensation of his hard prick against her. But just when she thought she had broken through, he pulled away and pushed her from him.

"That ain't happening," he told her, moving around to the other side of the bed.

"Why not? You have a hard on, I could fucking feel it! Why won't you touch me?! Why do you deny yourself what I know you must truly want?!"

"You ain't got the first fucking clue what I must truly want," he replied, bending to put on his pants, as to leave the room.

"No please, don't!" Catherine begged, feeling tears threatening behind her eyes. The humiliation of Dolly's words flooded back to her and the last thing she wanted was more talk about their current situation. "Please don't sleep elsewhere. I will lie on my side of the bed and allow you peace to lie on yours without my touching you if that is what you wish. I won't ask you about it again, you have my word. Only please don't make this...this chasm between us any fucking wider than it already is."

He paused in his actions and then nodded imperceptibly.

Slowly she retrieved her chemise from the floor and pulled it back over her head before sliding beneath the blanket again. She deliberately didn't watch as he completed his own undressing and retired beside her. As the lamp was extinguished, she lay and stared at the ceiling, wishing with all her heart that he would turn to her and yet knowing that he would not.

July 29th 1876

The arrival of the stagecoach the following morning took Catherine to the nearest window lest she catch sight of her new charge. She was not to be disappointed, as only one traveller could have fitted the description of any woman married to Hearst. She alighted from the stage, dressed in a garment of vivid red, her blonde hair piled up on top of her head. Dropping gracefully to the ground, she looked around and was warmly greeted by the man himself, who swept her into his arms and lovingly kissed her on the mouth before gently guiding her into the hotel. Catherine felt a stab of jealously go through her. Even when their relationship had been of a more intimate nature, Al would never deign to show true affection in public.

"Spying on the newly arrived Mrs Hearst?" Al's voice at her ear caused her to jump. "Assuming that's her of course."

"I imagine so. And if you intend to lecture me again on my role as her companion then please reserve your words for someone who hasn't yet heard them. I, have had my fill." She made to move away from the window, but he caught her wrist and pulled her back.

"Tone like that ain't going to win you my favour," he said softly.

"I appear to have already lost that," she snapped, pulling her arm free. "If your complete indifference to me is any guide." She lifted her shawl from the bed and wrapped it around her shoulders. "I'm going to visit Daddy's grave, a task I have sorely neglected of late. I doubt I'll be required at the hotel for some time but I'm sure you would be able to find someone willing to fetch me if the need arose."

Al watched as she swept out of the room, indignation following her like scent. He moved back to the window and waited until she appeared in the thoroughfare below, her step purposeful. Stopping only to purchase some tired looking blooms from the flower seller, whom Al had come to understand was to be wed to Harry Manning, she cast a final look back in his direction before continuing on her way. Turning away, he glanced at the bed that had been at the centre of the previous night's argument. Little would have prevented him from acceding to her wish to fuck, had he not still the hard knot of guilt in his chest. He knew she didn't understand his seeming reluctance for intimacy and some form of explanation would require to be given in due course, but he preferred to keep the truth to himself. His fear that intimacy between them could lead to pregnancy was ever prevalent. For though reason told him that a return of her sickness was far beyond the realms of possibility, human feeling dictated that he never place her in such a situation where possibility remained.

XXXX

"A very good afternoon to you, Mrs Swearengen," Hearst greeted Catherine on the stairs of the hotel.

"Good afternoon, Mr Hearst," she replied, conscious of Captain Turner close at her back. He had appeared at the Gem shortly after two o'clock that afternoon and decreed that Mrs Hearst was ready to receive visitors. Somewhat unsurely, she had found herself following him out of the saloon and across the thoroughfare to the hotel. Al had been conspicuously absent from the bar at the time and for that, she had been glad.

"You'll find my wife in the room down the hall. Turner will show you. I, unfortunately, have much business to attend to this afternoon but I do hope that you two ladies enjoy each other's company."

"I'm sure we will, thank you," she replied. He touched his hat and continued on his way. Silently, Captain Turner led her along the corridor to another room and knocked twice on the door.

"Come in!" A female voice called from inside. He pushed the door open and motioned for Catherine to enter first. As she did so, she came face to face with the same woman she had seen alighted from the stage earlier, though she was now dressed in a soft blue and her hair fell around her face.

"You must be Mrs Swearengen," the woman hurried forward, her hands extended in greeting. "It's so wonderful to meet you. I'm Phoebe Hearst."

"Mrs Hearst," Catherine replied, feeling an overwhelming urge to curtsey.

"Oh please call me Phoebe. I can't abide Mrs Hearst. It makes me sound so old!" Phoebe smiled at her. "May I call you Catherine? Such a pretty face! You also seem far too young to bear an old married woman's name."

"Of course."

"How wonderful! Won't you come and sit down and take tea with me? That will be all, Turner." She dismissed the captain with a wave of her hand and directed Catherine to a chair situated by the window before which sat an elegant tea tray. Or, at least as elegant as one would find in the Central Hotel. "I can't tell you how delighted I am that you agreed to George's request! The thought of coming to the camp with no prospect of company was rather terrifying!"

"Folks ain't so bad here," Catherine said.

"Not to you, perhaps," Phoebe agreed, pouring the tea into two cups. "You've been here now for some time. But after San Francisco this is certainly a new experience for me! I've often wondered about the places George travels to and now I can say that I have seen one of them for myself!"

Catherine found herself smiling at Phoebe's enthusiasm. "It must be difficult to have your husband away from you for so long."

"Sometimes, though it's often a blessing disguise. George is always so preoccupied with business that even when he is at home I can't command his attention for very long. The house is always full of business acquaintances traipsing in and out and even when he is at home, William and I often find ourselves dining alone most nights. It's only with William being away at school that I decided I had to get myself out of that house and see something of our great country. Missouri and San Francisco have been my limit so far, I'm afraid. Oh, you must see a picture!" Phoebe leapt to her feet and hurried across the room, returning with a small cameo photograph of an unsmiling young boy who looked no older than thirteen.

"He looks very like his father," Catherine observed.

"Yes..." Phoebe mused. "He's my pride and joy. I had hoped to bear George more children but, unfortunately, we have not been further blessed and what with his advancing years..." She sat back down and smiled at her guest. "But tell me about yourself! I understand that, like myself, you too have made a match with a man older than your years."

"Yes."

"And you work for this man?"

"I don't work for him," Catherine said quickly. "I inherited a half share in the Gem saloon across the way after my father died and I...look after the girls there," she replied, hoping the other woman took her meaning. "Al was his business partner and subsequently my own. Though marriage and relinquishment of my share to him certainly wasn't something I had ever expected to do."

"The financial lot of the married woman is regrettable, but you can't often help whom you fall in love with. I was but eighteen when we wed and completely infatuated," Phoebe smiled at the memory, seemingly unconcerned by the revelation of her visitor's status. "Even now, whenever his gaze rests upon me, I feel like that young girl again. I suppose you must feel the same."

Catherine thought back to her courtship with Al, if it could be called that. Drunken fucking followed by a sudden declaration of affection hardly seemed to count as courtship. At least not in any way she thought Phoebe would understand. And as for their situation now...

"In any event, I cannot wait to see more of the camp!" Phoebe declared, draining her cup.

"Aren't you tired after your long journey?"

"Not in the slightest. I rested earlier." Phoebe got to her feet. "Now, will you act as guide?"


	3. Chapter 3

"I am just fascinated by all of this!" Phoebe exclaimed as they left the hotel and emerged into the thoroughfare. "It's so different to San Francisco, let me tell you. The dirt, for example." She looked down at the earth beneath her feet with fascination. "And this must be the Gem!" She paused and looked up at the building opposite, shielding her eyes from the afternoon sunshine. "What a pleasant building. Shall we go inside?"

Catherine stared at her as though she'd lost her mind. "I don't really think that's advisable. I doubt Mr Hearst would approve."

"Nonsense," Phoebe waved her hand dismissively. "This isn't home and we'll be here for such a short time. I confess I've never been in a saloon before and what with you being my companion..."

"Well...it ain't really the done thing for women to be entering," Catherine explained, "not unless they're...working there."

"I see," Phoebe frowned. "I would so have enjoyed meeting your husband."

It was precisely the last thing Catherine wanted, given that she had little idea what Al might take it upon himself to say. "Perhaps later," she said, gesturing further along the thoroughfare. "I could introduce you to Sheriff Bullock. He and his partner own the hardware store just along here."

"That sounds perfect," Phoebe said, linking arms with her. "I could use a good broom. That hotel room is in dire need of a stiff sweeping."

Seth was alone in the store when they arrived and Catherine couldn't help noticing a look of surprise cross his face when he saw them. "Mrs Swearengen," he said, stepping out from behind the counter.

"Sheriff," she greeted him. "I wanted to introduce you to Mrs Phoebe Hearst."

Seth looked momentarily taken aback, but he accepted Phoebe's proffered hand. "Mrs Hearst."

"A pleasure to meet you, Sheriff," Phoebe said. "Having now made your acquaintance I see that the camp must surely be in safe hands. And you have such an array of goods here. I was looking for..." she trailed off as she moved to the far corner of the store.

Seth took hold of Catherine's arm. "Your idea bringing her here...or his?"

"I'll thank you to let go of me," she said softly, shaking herself free. "I've been appointed companion to Mrs Hearst and I'm merely showing her around the camp. She might be interested in purchasing a broom, so your best attitude might help complete the sale."

"Yes, this is exactly what I'm looking for," Phoebe said, pointing to a broom in the far corner. "Would it be possible to have someone deliver it to the hotel for me?"

"I'm sure that can be arranged," Seth replied.

"Splendid! Does my husband have an account here?"

"He does not."

"Oh dear...I never carry money, you see, but I can send Captain Turner along later. In fact, he could collect the broom and bring it to me...save your staff."

"As you wish," Seth replied.

"Wonderful!" Phoebe linked arms with Catherine again. "Thank you so much for your attentions, Sheriff. I believe that Mrs Swearengen has much still to show me!"

XXXX

Al sat at his desk, ostensibly there to consider the month's takings, but finding his mind wandering elsewhere. In particular, over to the hotel where he assumed Catherine and Phoebe Hearst were. In his mind, he replayed the conversation he had with her shortly before her departure. Her wounded pride had been evident...as had her beauty and he was no fool to realise that if he were to put his plan in motion, if he were to seek and be granted a divorce, then there would be little doubt that, in time, she would become the wife of another. Nature would also dictate that she may eventually become the mother of a child. He wondered how he might feel about those events, should they happen. Loving her as he undoubtedly did, her happiness meant much to him and yet though he had resolved to be parted from her, the thought of her with another brought him little comfort.

A sharp knock at the door jolted him from his considerations and, before he had granted entry, the door opened and Trixie hurried in.

"What the fuck is Catherine doing?" she asked pointedly.

"Expand on your meaning and I might be inclined to answer," he replied.

"She's traipsing all over camp with a woman I can only assume to be Mrs fucking Hearst. Was this your invention or did she come up with it all by herself?"

"Not that I feel I need explain myself to you," Al said, "but Hearst himself commissioned Catherine for the position. Called to her from the thoroughfare and then conversed with her in the privacy of his bedchamber by all accounts."

Trixie stared at him. "And she agreed to...to what?"

"To act as the lady's companion while she remains in camp. And to keep her eyes and ears open lest Hearst decide to divulge information about his intentions towards us mere hoopleheads." He watched as Trixie shook her head in disapproval. "I would not have suggested she take on this role, nor would I have agreed to it, had Catherine not informed me she had already accepted Hearst's offer."

"She's been the hardware store and, last I saw, they were headed towards the Ellsworth home," Trixie said. "Maybe you ain't got a bad feeling about it, but I do."

"I'll be sure to bear your concerns in mind," Al sighed. "Now, will you go the fuck away? I have other business that commands my attention."

XXXX

"What a lovely space!" Phoebe exclaimed as she and Catherine arrived at the open area just opposite the Ellsworth home. There were people milling around, talking and laughing together. "Do the camp residents come to this area often?"

"I have to confess I'm not sure," Catherine replied honestly. "I don't come here much myself. I suppose it is quite popular."

"How delightful. You and I shall need to have a picnic here one afternoon. Then you can tell me all the scandals in the camp!"

"I'm not sure there's really anything that would interest you..."

"And who lives here?" Phoebe interrupted, turning her attention to the Ellsworth home. "What a lovely home!"

"Mr and Mrs Ellsworth have lived there since their marriage earlier this year."

"Ellsworth..." Phoebe rubbed her chin, "That name sounds so familiar..."

"Mrs Ellsworth has the largest gold claim for miles around," Catherine replied.

"Of course!" Phoebe snapped her fingers. "Wasn't there something about her first husband too?"

"He died," Catherine said, reluctant to get into the details of the story and beginning to tire from all the day's activities.

"What a tragedy..." Phoebe mused. "Well, it certainly is an impressive structure." She frowned suddenly. "My dear, you've gone very pale all of a sudden. Are you unwell?"

"No, I'm fine, I assure you..."

"You don't look it at all. I think we've done enough exploring for one day." Phoebe patted her on the shoulder. "If you would direct me back to the hotel I do believe I can release you for the evening, though I do hope I can have the pleasure of your company again tomorrow?"

"I have duties at the Gem in the morning, but if you would like to see more of the camp in the afternoon..."

"I would indeed, especially the school. I would so like to meet the Sheriff's wife." They began walking back along the thoroughfare towards the hotel. "I must say, I genuinely didn't know what to expect when George told me he had commissioned you to help me acclimatise to the camp. But I can honestly say, that I think we shall be great friends, Catherine Swearengen. I hope you might feel the same."

"Yes," Catherine replied, as they paused at the hotel entrance. "I've enjoyed my time with you this afternoon."

"Wonderful. Then I shall bid you good day and see you tomorrow," Phoebe kissed her lightly on the cheek and then swept inside the hotel without so much as a backwards glance.

Catherine watched her disappear into the swirl of residents and then turned back to the Gem. There was no sign of Al on the balcony and she could only assume that he was engaged in business far more important than his marriage.

XXXX

"Well?"

"She's utterly charming, George," Phoebe relayed that evening, unpinning her hair. "I like her very much. Her manners, her conversation..."

"Did she say anything about the Ellsworth claim?"

"Not in so many words, no."

"Did you ask her?"

"No," she sighed at the note of irritation in his tone, "I only just met the woman this afternoon! She indicated the house to me and made mention that Mr and Mrs Ellsworth resided there and that Mrs Ellsworth has a large claim, but as to further talk..." she shrugged her shoulders.

Hearst moved closer to her chair. "Phoebe, you understand my purpose in having you befriend her is not to make sport for you but to provide me with information that will help my securing of that claim from Mrs Ellsworth!"

"Then you should have asked Mrs Ellsworth herself to befriend me, George. I don't possibly see how you expect Catherine..."

"It ain't her I'm fixing on," he interrupted, looking out of the window. "It's her husband."

"Well I haven't even met him yet," she sat down in the chair by the window. "And honestly, I believe this whole charade to be utterly ridiculous. Why not just ask her or her husband for their help in securing the claim if you're that eager?"

He shook his head at her lack of understanding. "Never mind my dear. Do not seek to trouble yourself with the intimacies of business. Please continue your association with Mrs Swearengen. You never know what may come of it."

Phoebe lifted her mirror and studied her reflection. "A friendship which I hope would endure beyond this camp would please me immensely. And she would be so suited to San Francisco." She turned back to her husband. "But we have been parted such a long time, my darling, and I think it only right that you now demonstrate how keenly you have missed me."

XXXX

"How did you find her?" Al asked.

"Very personable," Catherine replied, tossing her shawl onto the bed. "We had a very pleasant afternoon, despite her wishing to come in here and meet you."

"I trust you dissuaded her."

"I pointed out to her that it wouldn't be wise for a woman such as herself to be frequenting a saloon, but despite that she seemed unperturbed. I wouldn't be surprised if she weren't to turn up unannounced one day and demand liquor. She's that sort."

"Long as she ain't looking for snatch," Al commented. "That kind of thing don't go down too well with some folks."

"She's too much in love with her husband to be looking for anything like that." Catherine stood at the balcony doors watching as the sun slowly sank into the horizon. She could see a light burning in Phoebe's window and wondered what would be transpiring in her room that night. No doubt more than would transpire in her own. "If I've done something to anger you...I would prefer you tell me."

The comment took Al aback, but he quickly recovered himself. "You ain't done nothing."

"Then I fail to understand the cause of your sudden disinterest," she said, turning to face him. "I could understand your reluctance as I recovered but I am now returned to full health and yet you still seem to find it impossible..."

"Must we talk about this now?" he interrupted, uncomfortable at the direction of the conversation.

"Yes!" she insisted. "I have lived for too many weeks without knowing why you no longer desire me."

"You want me to hold you down on the bed and fuck you, is that it? You wish me to force myself on you as any other husband claiming his conjugal rights?"

She shook her head, "I wish you to love me as I know you are able." He said nothing as she walked slowly over to stand in front of him and began unhooking the buttons on her dress. Her eyes never left his as, one by one, each was slipped from its hold, revealing only a sheer undergarment beneath that did little to hide her assets. Reaching out, she felt his hardness protruding and gently slid down the fly of his pants, her fingers seeking the button on his flap and releasing it, so that he spilled into her hand. She moved closer to him, slowly running her hand down his shaft.

"Stop it Cathy," he said, though his voice shook a little on the words. But she persisted, her body close to him, her breath dancing over his lips. "You ain't got no idea what you're doing..." Resistance, however, was futile. His arousal could be restrained no longer and he grabbed her, pulling her to him, his mouth crushing against hers, his tongue pushing against her own. One hand grabbed her breast, none too gently, and rubbed her nipple to a hard peak, the other snaked between her legs to push up inside her and find the willing wetness. She groaned in appreciation as he pushed her back against the desk, hoisted her up atop it, forced her legs apart and thrust inside her.

"Yes..." she moaned, the word full of victory as she bucked against him. "Yes...Jesus...Al..." Her appreciation continued, growing in volume and effusion with each thrust inside her. It felt so natural to him, weeks of pent up frustration finally spilling over into the only person he could ever imagine loving again. Her body so warm against his own, so willing...but the cold reality of his situation was never far away and, as he felt himself approach his peak, found it invading his head like a viper.

"No..." he groaned, trying to pull back from her. She clung to him tightly, holding him against her, crying his name in ever desperate tones. "No...no!" he finally managed to rip himself from her clutches and staggered back, holding his still hard prick in his hand. "Jesus fucking Christ!" He turned his back on her and placed one hand on the wall to steady himself. "I ain't doing this!" He turned back to face her, comically splayed as she was on the desk, a look of hurt and bewilderment on her face. "I ain't having you with child again!"

Catherine pulled herself upright, grabbed her dress from the floor and held it against her, hiding what, moments ago, he had revelled in. "I don't understand..."

"I ain't risking you bearing my child!"

"Is that what all this is about? Al, my difficulty didn't arise from my pregnancy. The cholera was entirely separate and unrelated..."

"One led to the other, Cathy," he said, his prick now soft enough to be able to slip back inside his duds. "If being with child hadn't made you feel unwell, you wouldn't have needed to drink that infected water. Sense dictates it was my doing and, learning from that, I ain't putting you in the position again."

"But..."

"That's the last word I'm going to say on the subject."

"Well it ain't the last word I'm going to say!" She protested. "How can we possibly go on like this? Are we to have a marriage without intimacy? Will you return to fucking one of the girls whenever the need takes you, for I cannot see you denying yourself a release?"

"Things will be put in place," he said, pulling his clothes back on. "As for tonight, I'll sleep in your old room."

"This is fucking ridiculous!"

"Take it as you will," he replied. "But perhaps think on it as being the one selfless thing I've done for you." He left the room, slamming the door behind him and leaned against it for a brief moment. It had felt so good, so natural being with her again. But his words to her had been correct. It could never be allowed to go further and it never would. Never again.

XXXX

Catherine tossed and turned all night, feeling small in the bed that it seemed she would no longer share with her husband. His words rolled around and around in her head and though, in some way, she could see his logic, it seemed twisted to her. He had convinced himself that by denying his desire for her, he was somehow protecting her. Somehow prolonging her life in a way he couldn't if they were together. But he failed to see that, in denying her, he was in effect ending her life. She knew, in her heart, that there was no purpose for her without him. Hearing Phoebe talk of her love for Hearst, the look in her eyes when she mentioned his name, had only compounded that.

She had to make him see, had to make him realise that his concerns were without foundation. There must be a way to ensure the survival of their marriage even at the expense of future pregnancies.

"Doc..." she whispered to herself, "Doc could help me."

The thought quietened her and she finally fell into a deep sleep.


	4. Chapter 4

July 30th 1876

Al barely looked at her when she came down for breakfast the following morning and, once sure that she was clear of the room, proceeded to climb the stairs back to the office with his own food and close the door. Catherine hovered at the bar, torn between wanting to storm after him and demand further explanation over his ludicrous decision and wishing to save herself further humiliation. Reasoning that it was better to leave matters for the moment, she concentrated on sitting and eating her own breakfast, though every mouthful of the food tasted like sawdust.

"You all right?"

She looked up to see Silas watching her from across the table. "Fine, why?"

He shrugged, glancing up towards the closed office door. "Just asking."

"Thank you, but I'm fine," she replied. The last thing she wanted was for everyone in the Gem to know about the situation.

"You know, if you ever want to talk..."

"About what?"

"About...things that have happened...I'm here if you need me."

Catherine paused, knowing he referred to the loss of her child. Dolly, before she turned, had told her in hushed tones about the declaration Silas had made about the loss of his wife and child. Though she felt for the other man, she found herself wishing that it were Al who wished to discuss such matters instead.

"Thank you," she said softly and he nodded in understanding.

Upon finishing breakfast, she saw to it that the girls were ready to face that day's customers before slinging her shawl over her shoulders and making her way to Doc's. As she left the Gem, she glanced up at the windows, but saw no sign of her husband.

"Morning Catherine," Joanie greeted her as she came out of the hotel, accompanied by Charlie Utter.

"Morning Joanie, Mr Utter," she returned the greeting.

"Mrs Swearengen," Charlie said, touching his hat.

As she walked on, she glanced back over her shoulder and smiled as she saw them walk on together, deep in conversation. Despite everything, it made her feel warm inside to know that there may be a romance between them. Joanie deserved it after everything she had been through.

To her surprise, there was a queue outside Doc's and she had to stand for a good fifteen minutes before he finally was able to let her inside.

"My apologies," he said, gesturing for her to sit down. "I've found myself rather in demand this morning."

"Any particular reason?" she enquired.

"If I knew that, I'd make sure it happened all the time," he replied, sitting down opposite her. "Now, what can I do for you?"

"I was hoping..." she trailed off, embarrassed at her predicament and unsure where to even begin to start explaining. Doc watched her patiently until she finally found the strength to say her piece. "Al says...Al says that we can never be intimate again because of what happened to me. He says he can't risk my becoming pregnant again and, because of that, he refuses..." she trailed off.

"I see," Doc said softly.

She lowered her eyes. "As a doctor, you surely would be able to advise me as to...well...methods of controlling pregnancy..."

"There are methods, yes."

"And I don't mean that fucking disgusting tea that the girls brew if they feel they might be in trouble. I mean, real...methods..."

"I understand your meaning," he said. "But it seems to me from what you've said that this goes deeper than simply finding a reliable method to prevent pregnancy. Have you spoken with Al properly about this?"

"He refuses!" she exclaimed, throwing up her hands. "He ignored me for days without proper reason until last night when we...well...in any event, he couldn't continue and he made very clear to me the reason and the fact that such an act could never happen again. That's why, I had hoped..."

"Catherine, I could give you advice about every method possible to assist in the prevention of pregnancy but if Al refuses to consider even engaging in the act that might lead to it ..."

"That is what I took his meaning to be."

"Then my assistance is premature."

She sighed heavily and closed her eyes, wiling away the hot tears that pricked at her. "Then I find myself at a loss as to how to proceed."

He reached out and took her hand in his. "Talk to Al again. Make him listen to you."

Catherine laughed despite herself. "Make him listen to me? I think we may be discussing a completely different person. Al Swearengen listens to no-one."

"Except you," he squeezed her hand. "I believe you will find your counsel is his most valued."

XXXX

"Catherine, how lovely! And right on time too! I do confess, lack of punctuality is a pet hate of mine!" Phoebe opened her chamber door wide to allow her new friend entry. "I am very much looking forward to our walk this afternoon."

"I'm glad," Catherine replied trying to muster up as much enthusiasm as she possibly could, yet feeling that Phoebe's vivaciousness may only serve to irritate her. Having left Doc's, she had returned to the Gem and aimlessly assisted Jewel in the kitchen until it was time to venture to the hotel. She waited while the other woman fixed her hair in front of the vanity mirror. "I take it Mr Hearst is being kept busy?"

"Lord, yes! I hardly see him. He's away so early in the mornings. It was nice spending some time with him last night though," she smiled saucily, "if you take my meaning."

"I do."

"So! Shall we visit the schoolhouse this afternoon? I am most keen to meet with the Sheriff's wife."

"I'm sure she'd be very pleased to make your acquaintance," Catherine replied.

"Are you sure you're feeling all right?" Phoebe enquired, peering at the other woman. "You still look terribly pale."

"I'm fine," she replied hurriedly, not wishing to be drawn on the source of her malaise. "A walk in the fresh air will no doubt do me the world of good." With that, they made their way back down the stairs and out into the thoroughfare. Phoebe chatted incessantly as they made in the direction of the schoolhouse. Catherine had little idea of what she was talking about, and was only glad that no further suggestion was made of them entering the Gem.

As they neared the schoolhouse, she saw Martha sweeping the steps, pausing when she saw the two women approach.

"Mrs Bullock."

"Mrs Swearenegen," Martha looked at Phoebe. "This must be..."

"Phoebe Hearst," Phoebe said, holding out her hand. "A pleasure to meet you Mrs Bullock."

"Likewise," Martha replied. "My husband told me last night that he had made your acquaintance in the hardware store."

"A fine man, your husband," Phoebe beamed. "A credit to the camp as Sheriff, I have no doubt."

"Thank you. I'm sure he'll appreciate your endorsement."

"What a lovely schoolhouse!" Phoebe peered inside. "May I look?"

"Of course," Martha stepped back and allowed the two women entry. School having finished for the afternoon, it was devoid of children, but there was artwork pinned to the walls and books, crayons and tablets neatly packed on top of a desk in the corner.

Catherine, having never been in before herself, also took the opportunity to admire it. She couldn't help but feel that, if she were to have another child, it would be suitably educated in the camp. She glanced sideways at Martha, who was watching Phoebe with interest, and wondered what it would be like to have her as a confidante.

"This is a credit to you, Mrs Bullock!" Phoebe declared. "A most pleasing place for the camp's children to learn. Do you have many students?"

"Around twenty or so," Martha replied. "Not all attend on a regular basis due to commitments at home."

"Of course, yes, I can imagine. George commented only yesterday that you have one very distinctive student. A little girl with such pure blonde hair?"

"Yes, Mrs Ellsworth's daughter, Sophia."

"Not her own daughter, I'm given to understand however, merely her ward?"

"I...well...yes," Martha replied, her smile slipping slightly. "But very much treated as Mrs Ellsworth's daughter."

"Of course, of course," Phoebe flapped her hands. "Silly of me to suggest anything to the contrary. So good of her to take the child in." She nodded satisfactorily. "It really is a lovely building. I was just thinking that we three should take tea sometime in the hotel."

"Oh, well I..."

"Catherine, don't you think that would be such a splendid idea?"

Catherine looked between the two women, "I'm not sure..."

"We are three respectable women who could derive some pleasure from each other's company. What is there to be unsure of?"

"Respectability is perhaps one issue," Catherine said. "Sheriff Bullock credits me with little and I doubt he would approve. But I'm sure that he would be more than happy for the two of you..."

"Absolute nonsense!" Phoebe declared. "A lack of respectability indeed! Why, because you live in a saloon? Because you tend to the needs of the working girls? Mrs Bullock, I'm sure you would agree that there could be little said about such fraternising. Besides, as much affection as we have for our husbands, I refuse to accept that permission must be granted to us for all things."

Catherine looked over at Martha, who was clearly trying to smother her amusement. "If Mrs Bullock has no objections...?"

"None," Martha replied, "I think it would be lovely."

"Oh how wonderful!" Phoebe clapped her hands. "Indeed, perhaps we might even invite Mrs Ellsworth to join us!" She looked at Catherine. "I was hoping one of our next stops might be her bank."

"Oh..." Martha said.

"Why don't we keep it as we three for now," Catherine interjected, knowing that the history between Bullock and Mrs Ellsworth would not make for a happy afternoon's activity.

"If you insist," Phoebe pouted. "We shall have to organise something soon. It was so lovely to meet you, Mrs Bullock."

"And you Mrs Hearst, Mrs Swearengen."

Phoebe and Catherine left the schoolhouse and began making their way leisurely along the thoroughfare back towards the hotel where Phoebe insisted that Catherine stay for some tea. As they neared the door, a man bumped roughly against Catherine, causing her to stumble backwards and he to drop the wood he was holding.

"Good gracious!" Phoebe exclaimed, grabbing her arm to steady herself.

"Apologies Ma'am," the man said, bending down to retrieve his belongings. "Are you all right?"

"I'm fine, thank you," Catherine replied.

"You might want to watch where you're walking!" Phoebe exclaimed indignantly.

The man glanced at her briefly before turning his attention back to Catherine. "I hope you ain't hurt."

"I'm fine," she repeated. "Mr..."

"Earp," he said, briefly touching his hat, "Wyatt Earp." With that, he disappeared into the throng of the thoroughfare.

"Heavens," Phoebe said, "I think a strong brandy might be more appropriate than tea!"

XXXX

Al was standing on the balcony taking in the evening air, when he heard the office door open and shut and, turning, he found Catherine standing in the doorway behind him, her face pale and drawn. He hadn't seen her since first thing that morning yet knew she had spent the afternoon entertaining the Hearst woman. He was minded to query her on it, when she spoke first.

"I spoke with Doc today."

"On what subject?"

"Our...situation."

"You took it upon yourself to discuss our private business with him?" Al said, forgetting all thoughts of Hearst or his wife. What right did Doc have to opine one way or another on their personal life together?

"On the basis that you refuse to discuss it, yes I did," she replied sharply. "He gave me suggestions as to how we might continue to...to be intimate without needing to fear the risk of pregnancy. There are various methods that we could use..."

"I ain't interested in his methods."

"But..."

"I said no, Cathy. That is an end to it."

"No it isn't!" she exclaimed. "It isn't an end to it, it can't be! I don't believe for one moment that you truly mean what you're fucking suggesting! How is it possible to remain wed to a person with whom you have no physical passion?"

Taking a deep breath, he set out his chosen course. "Perhaps the answer lies in us no longer being fucking wed."

She stared at him. "You're not seriously suggesting..."

"I am. And the sooner we make it official the better for everyone." If he had thought giving voice to his decision would bring him comfort, he was left wanting. He did not feel better. If anything, he felt worse as her face took on an expression of abject horror.

"But..." she fought for words, clearly shaken by his declaration. He waited, almost holding his breath until a light dawned in her eyes. "So, you've gotten what you wanted all along! Marry me, take my share of the Gem and then cast me out like a common whore with nothing!"

"That ain't the way of it," he said hurriedly.

"Of course it fucking is!"

"If you'll let me finish, you'll discover that I intend to return your share of the Gem to you, or the financial equivalent of same if you prefer, on the occasion of our divorce." He saw the confusion in her eyes and, reaching into his pocket, pulled out the signed document. "Here," he held it out to her. She took it from him and he watched her gaze dance over the letters. "You'll see my intentions all along were honourable."

Catherine tossed the paper onto his desk. "You expect congratulations for having the foresight for this moment?" She shook her head helplessly. "I don't understand why you're doing this, I really don't. If you have concerns, fears..."

"I don't."

"That wasn't your position last night when you declared you couldn't see me with child!" She pointed out. "Surely we are able to speak of and resolve such matters without recourse to divorce?"

"Perhaps if this were a regular marriage, one brought about through genuine love and affection, such resolution would be possible but as it is..." The blow clearly hit her hard and he felt himself wince at the way her eyes filled with tears. "Let's not tell ourselves untruths," he continued. "It wasn't much of a match, was it?"

"You told me..." she paused. "You told me of your feelings. You...declared love..."

"Fucking has a tendency to bring out strange emotions in the brain," he said, opening his drawer and pulling out a fresh whisky bottle. "I'll admit that fucking you was an improvement on fucking others before you..."

"Stop!" she said, holding up her hand. "I know what you're doing. I know you're only saying these things to encourage me to accept the situation but I won't!"

Al paused, tempted to go further. Tempted to help push her over the cliff's precipice by revealing the secret of his involvement in her attack. It would surely be the death knell for any protestations she might make about steering him away from his chosen course. But weighed heavily against that was the knowledge that it could perhaps destroy her. For all his intentions as to the outcome of the matter, he wanted to refrain from hurting her too deeply.

"You love me," she said, coming to stand in front of him. "I know that you love me and that this isn't what you want..."

"You profess to having a lot of knowledge of my feelings," he interrupted, moving away from her, lest he be again tempted to embrace her. "This is what I want and this is what is going to happen, Cathy. Seek whatever advice you wish, be it legal or otherwise, the offer stands. Your half share of the Gem or the financial equivalent."

"Fuck you, Al" Catherine exclaimed, the tears spilling down her cheeks. "Fuck you and fuck the Gem!"

He watched her run from the room, taking no pleasure in her departure.


	5. Chapter 5

July 31st 1876

"When I told George last night that we were going to take tea together he cautioned me against my being too forthright with you! I do hope that isn't how you both feel, is it?" Phoebe leaned across the table and fixed her companions with a worried look. "I would feel terrible..."

"Not at all," Martha reassured her, replacing her tea cup in its saucer. "This is a lovely way to end the afternoon, especially after looking after the children all day."

"I'm so glad. Catherine?" Phoebe turned her attention to the other woman. "Catherine!"

Catherine started at the mention of her name and lifted her gaze hurriedly from where she had been staring at the table top. "I'm sorry?"

"You were miles away," Phoebe said. "And you look terribly pale again. Is it simply a remnant of your illness or is there something else on your mind? You're among friends and I'm sure Mrs Bullock and I would do all we could to offer counsel, wouldn't we?"

"Of course," Martha agreed.

Catherine paused, torn between wanting to unburden herself and wishing to keep the events of the last twenty four hours to herself. After she had fled from Al's declaration, she had locked herself in her old bedroom and cried herself to sleep. The knowledge that he no longer wished to be married to her weighed heavily on her and though she couldn't understand his decision, his resoluteness made her feel as though there would be no changing of his mind. Upon awakening, she had vowed that she would not lower herself to beg him, that she would hold her head high, but the last thing she had wanted to do that afternoon was take tea with Phoebe and Martha and had in fact thought she had escaped the former's company altogether until Captain Turner had arrived at the Gem that morning with the invitation. Without reason to refuse, she had found herself making her way to the hotel at 4pm to meet the other women. She felt her emotions flit between distress and anger and constantly found herself shifting from wanting to cry at Al's feet to wishing to strike him square in the face. At that precise moment, emotion was winning the battle.

"My dear, your eyes are filling with tears!" Phoebe exclaimed. "Good gracious, whatever is the matter?"

"Nothing," she replied, looking down at her hands. "At least, nothing I feel I can share."

"Nonsense," Phoebe blustered, "there's nothing that can't be shared amongst friends."

"Well..."

"Good afternoon, ladies." Catherine was interrupted by Hearst's sudden arrival at the table. "I trust you're enjoying your afternoon?"

"We were," Phoebe said, her tone carrying a note of irritation at her husband's intrusion. "This is strictly a female only occasion, darling."

"I wouldn't dream of intruding," he replied. "Might I have a word, my dear?"

Phoebe rolled her eyes and sighed, "If you must." With an ill grace, she pushed her chair back from the table and followed her husband out into the hotel foyer.

Catherine and Martha sat in relative silence for a few moments, the former unsure whether she was glad of the interruption or not. To give voice to what had transpired was to almost make it more real than she believed it was.

"Perhaps I would not be quite so forthright in my enquiry as Mrs Hearst," Martha said suddenly in a low voice, "but if you should wish to speak of what is troubling you, I can offer a non-judgemental ear."

Catherine looked at her and saw true empathy in her expression. She had always felt for Martha knowing, as did most of the camp, of the Sheriff's indiscretions with Mrs Ellsworth, nee Garrett, nee Russell in her absence. And yet, the other woman had borne the plight with an enviable disposition, a grace and elegance that Catherine worried would elude her.

"Would you, or indeed Sheriff Bullock, know of any lawyers in the camp? One...who might be proficient in matters of divorce?" She felt the words rush out of her mouth and a sense of relief descend.

Martha's mouth dropped open in surprise, but she quickly recovered herself. "Personally, no, but I would be more than happy to ask Seth if he could recommend anyone. He speaks often of the trial of Jack McCall and I understand that there were many lawyers wishing to participate at that time. As Sheriff, I'm sure he must have some connections."

"Thank you."

"I'm...sorry. I had no idea that you and Mr Swearengen...I had always thought you to be very happy together."

"As did I," Catherine replied sadly. "But it would seem I was mistaken in that belief." Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Phoebe making her way back to the table. "I would be grateful if you would keep this to yourself for now. I'm sure Phoebe would offer wise words but I don't believe I'm ready for her opinion on the matter."

"Of course," Martha replied, "you may count on my discretion."

"My apologies," Phoebe said, sitting herself back down at the table. "I find it incredible sometimes that a man as important in business as George can't make the smallest decision about furnishings." She fixed her gaze on Catherine. "I'm sorry you were interrupted, Catherine, please continue with what you were about to say."

"Oh...it was nothing," Catherine replied, lifting her tea cup and glancing sideways at Martha. "Nothing at all."

XXXX

At the same time that Catherine was taking tea, Al found himself out on the Gem balcony, gazing out over the camp. As his gaze wandered, so did his mind and he recalled how steadfastly Catherine had chosen to ignore him that morning as she went about her daily routine but he had overhead her distress when passing her door on his way to the bar and back again, and found himself somewhat surprised by it. When he had divorced Nettie, she could not have been more relieved and yet Catherine, who had in years gone past made no attempt to hide her feeling of ill-will towards him, broke her heart over a match that she must surely realise was always doomed to fail.

As he pondered, across the way, Hearst emerged out onto his roof, taking a deep lungful of evening air before thrusting his hands in the pockets of his pants and surveying the camp. Upon catching sight of Al, he nodded towards him. "Good evening, Mr Swearengen."

"Mr Hearst," Al replied.

"I must say that I am most pleased with how my wife appears to have taken to yours. Why Mrs Hearst has done nothing but sing Mrs Swearengen's praises since first they met."

"I'm pleased to hear it.

"Indeed, as we speak, they take tea beneath me with the Sheriff's wife," Hearst continued, "and a more amiable table I believe I have yet to see. I can't thank you enough for permitting Mrs Swearengen to take on board the task I assigned her."

"Permission ain't something I'm used to granting for Catherine," Al replied.

"I can tell that," Hearst nodded, "She certainly is one with a mind of her own."

"Indeed."

"I was hoping that we two might sit down and discuss business at a mutually convenient time. I see no reason why we cannot be as amiable as our spouses, can you?"

Al paused. Something in his gut told him not to trust the other man and yet, sitting down face to face and discussing business, was perhaps the only way he would glean Hearst's intentions. "I see no reason why that couldn't be accomplished."

"I'm delighted to hear it. I will send Captain Turner over tomorrow with a proposal and I very much look forward to it."

"As do I," Al said. At that moment, he was distracted by Catherine emerging from the hotel and crossing the thoroughfare back to the Gem. "I do hope you'll excuse me. Mrs Swearengen appears to be returning."

"I too should see to Mrs Hearst. Until tomorrow then."

"Tomorrow." Al made his way back into the office and on into the bar in time to see Catherine pour herself a large glass of whisky and down it in one. Then she poured another and made for the stairs. "Been taking tea with the Sheriff's wife, I hear," he greeted her on the balcony.

"I won't pretend to be surprised at your spying on me," she replied.

"Hearst himself informed me in the same breath as requesting I meet with him to discuss business."

"And what was your reply?"

"I agreed to it. It might lend me some advantage which your befriending his wife has so far failed to do."

"I hardly think I'm bound to tell you anything now," Catherine replied sourly. "If you have your way we will shortly owe no obligation to one another. Even if I were to overhear that he planned to set the Gem aflame, I would not be required to inform you."

"You speak as though you were in my employ as opposed to in my bed."

"One begets the other," she drained her glass. "I'm sure Dolly will be delighted to return to her former duties, unless of course your inability extends to all women as opposed to only myself?"

"Anger has replaced your distress?"

"My feelings are none of your concern anymore," she replied, sweeping past him into her room and slamming the door. He watched the space where she had been, the closed door, and waited for the sounds of distress from within, but there was nothing.

XXXX

Later that evening, Catherine found herself in the bar, watching over the girls and the customers as duty imposed. She found herself wondering how long she would continue to undertake the role. The idea of remaining in the Gem after the divorce had taken place brought her no comfort and, in her own mind, she found herself leaning further and further towards taking her financial share and leaving. But where would she go? Would she remain in the camp, or would it be more beneficial for her to pack up what meagre belongings she had and seek a new life elsewhere? The thought frightened her. She had never been anywhere without the protection of her father, or indeed Al.

So lost in thought was she, that she didn't notice Bullock enter the saloon and make his way over to her. "Mrs Swearengen."

"Sheriff!" she exclaimed, jumping at his voice beside her. "My apologies."

"They're not necessary" he replied, and she could see pity in his eyes, no doubt placed there by Martha recounting her tale of woe. "Mrs Bullock mentioned to me that you were looking for some legal advice."

"Yes," Catherine replied, glancing around lest anyone be listening. "I didn't know who to ask and I thought, with your standing in the camp..."

"I can give you some names," he said, handing her a small piece of paper. "May I recommend the name that appears first on the list? He lives in Spearfish, but has cause to be in the camp. I took the liberty of speaking with him earlier and he indicated that he would be more than happy to discuss your situation with you tomorrow."

"Oh..." Catherine said, staring at the paper. "That's...so soon..."

"I understood that there might be some urgency to the matter."

"Yes, yes there is. I would like to know my position as soon as possible." She smiled. "Thank you for your attention to this."

"You're welcome," Bullock replied. "I suggested to him that you might like to meet with him outside the hardware store tomorrow at ten o'clock. You're welcome to use our premises for your discussions or indeed go elsewhere."

"Thank you. I appreciate your help." He touched his hat and then made his way back to the door. She looked down at the name written before her, Robert Finch, and couldn't help feel that seeing it made everything seem so much more real.

August 1st 1876

She opened under him, willing and wanting, like a whore and yet...so much better, her body displayed for him like a feast. Breasts, small and firm with hardened nipples and a tuft of fire red hair at her pussy, teasing him with the treasures that lay beyond. She was wetter than he would have ever imagined possible and he slid inside her with practiced ease, causing her to groan and wrap her legs tightly around his waist. She clenched her muscles, creating a sweet pressure in his prick that only served to excite him more as he thrust slowly in and out. He ran his tongue deliberately around each burning peak and she arched her body towards him, filling his mouth with her flesh. He grew more desperate for release and his strokes increased, harder and faster, the sound of his own name echoing around his head like a symphony...

Al awoke suddenly, finding his prick pressed hard against his duds, a small patch of wetness the only evidence of the content of his dream. His heart was pounding in his chest and he could feel a slick of sweat upon his brow. Sitting up in bed, his eyes grew accustomed to the darkness and he remembered that he was alone, Catherine choosing to spend yet another night in her old room. He knew he couldn't blame her for that choice, though he had considered himself to be capable of restraint should she lie beside him.

"But perhaps not," he muttered to himself, recalling the previous evening, "if she were to offer herself quite so tantalisingly."

His bladder burned and he threw back the covers and made for the piss pot. As he stood, staring out into the dark night while making water, he thought back to how, when he had been recovering from the knife wound, Catherine had helped him to and from the piss pot, had allowed him to lean on her while it was in use and had made no judgement of his frailty. Many a woman would have refused and he would only have had the assistance of a whore because of her fear.

When his stream had concluded, he made his way back to bed and lay staring at the ceiling wondering, yet again, if his decision was the right one.

XXXX

Catherine was running late for her appointment that morning due, in no small measure, to her having overslept. Something had awakened her in the small hours of the night, causing her to start, heart pounding, instinct on alert. The stillness of her bedroom had indicated there was no immediate threat, though she had considered going to Al. For what purpose she knew not. Further humiliation was not something she relished. Instead, she had pulled the covers up to her chin and tried to encourage the return of sleep.

It was therefore fully ten after ten before she arrived at the hardware store, in time to see Bullock and an unknown man, presumably Robert Finch, standing outside.

"My apologies," she said, coming to a halt beside them. "I didn't realise the time."

"It's not a problem," Bullock replied, though she could see the rebuke in his eyes. "Catherine Swearengen, this is Robert Finch, the lawyer I mentioned. Mr Finch, Mrs Swearengen."

"How do you do?" the other man asked, taking off his hat. She estimated him to be in his early sixties, portly with greying hair and dark eyes.

"Very well, thank you," she said. "Is there somewhere that we can talk?"

"Please," Bullock said, "use our back room." He led them through the hardware store and into the back room where there was a large table and chairs awaiting them. "It's perfectly private and you'll not be disturbed."

"Thank you Sheriff," Robert said, placing his hat on the table.

When Bullock had gone, Catherine sat down in one of the vacant chairs. "Thank you for agreeing to meet with me, Mr Finch."

"A pleasure my dear, a pleasure," Robert said, pulling out a notepad and pencil and settling himself opposite her. "I understand from the Sheriff that you're looking for some advice regarding a divorce?"

"Yes. My husband and I only married some three months ago but...well he now seeks divorce."

"Oh what grounds, may I ask?"

She lowered her eyes. "I was very ill with cholera some weeks ago and consequently lost a child as a result. He no longer...I mean...he no longer wishes to be with me...intimately...and subsequently no longer wishes to be with me at all."

"I see," Robert scribbled on his notepad, his expression betraying nothing of his thoughts. "Then it would really fall under an irreconcilable difference between the pair of you."

"As opposed to...?"

"Adultery, cruelty, neglect...those sorts of things. And, you are agreeable to this course of action?"

Catherine frowned, "I didn't think my agreement was an issue."

"Then you don't agree?"

"It's not what I want, if that's what you mean."

"Hmmm..." he leaned back in the chair. "Unfortunately, my dear, a husband may divorce a wife for any reason he chooses without requiring her consent, even in a camp such as this, I merely wondered if this was something you were both in agreement with. A formality, if you will."

"It isn't, but from your words I assume there is little I could do to prevent it."

"Very little." Robert agreed. "You reside together at present?"

"In the Gem saloon, yes."

"And, how do you propose to support yourself after the divorce? I'm sure you're aware that a married woman cannot hold property of her own and a husband is under no obligation..."

"My husband was previously in partnership with my father," she interrupted. "Upon my father's death earlier this year, his share of the saloon passed to myself as his heir."

"Yes, but..."

"My husband had a document drawn up prior to our marriage stating that my half share of the Gem would not transfer to him on account of our marriage, but would remain my own property, to be retained by me on the occasion of divorce."

Robert's eyebrows shot up, "Most interesting...I would require a copy, if possible, simply to verify it's veracity."

"Of course. I understand he had it signed and witnessed, though I had no knowledge of the existence of this document until a few days ago. I entered the marriage content in the knowledge that he would become sole proprietor of the saloon and that I would be giving up my rights," Catherine sighed. "He has offered me the choice of remaining in partnership with him and enjoying the profits from that, or taking my half share of the business in gold."

"Your preference being?"

"I haven't decided yet."

"Well..." he sat forwards and met her gaze. "This is a most interesting case, I must say. I would suggest that the first thing to be done is to have the business independently valued. Only then will you have any idea how much money you would stand to receive should you elect to take it and only then could you truly make an informed decision as to how best to proceed."

"How do I go about getting it valued?"

"Mr Star is the Chief Financial Officer at the Bank of Deadwood and I think he would be ideally placed to give you such a valuation." Robert got to his feet. "We've discussed much this morning, Mrs Swearengen. Let me speak with Mr Star with a view to progressing matters. In the meantime, if you could procure a copy of the document signed by your husband, I would be most grateful. I must confess, this is the first case I've had of this nature where a husband has been willing to return property to his wife. From the little knowledge I have of Mr Swearengen, I find it most intriguing."

"And what of your fee?" Catherine enquired, feeling somewhat disinclined to discuss Al's intrigue.

"Don't let's concern ourselves with that for the moment."

"How long will all this take?" she asked, getting to her feet.

"Well, my dear, as I touched upon earlier, this camp is illegal. It's not annexed to the United States and, as such, it can take as little or as much time as you wish." He cocked his head to one side. "How quickly do you wish the matter disposed of?"

Catherine paused. Prior to the meeting, she would have said she wanted it prolonged for as long as possible, in the vain hope that Al would change his mind. Now, however, she felt the best course was to have it dealt with swiftly.

"As soon as fucking possible."


	6. Chapter 6

Stepping out of the hardware store, Catherine took a deep lungful of morning air and then let it out slowly. Her mind whirled over the conversation that she had just had with Robert Finch and the wheels that would be set in motion on her behalf. As she looked up the thoroughfare towards the Gem, she thought about how things were so clearly going to change. She was curious as to what Sol might value the Gem as being worth. The prospect of holding any money of her own brought with it a tantalising sense of excitement mixed with feelings of hurt. Anything they had ever had had always been held by Travis and, latterly, by Al. It seemed almost comical that she might find herself in a situation similar to that of Mrs Ellsworth, mistress of her own fortune.

As her mind considered that prospect, her feet found their way to the Bank of Deadwood and, before she really had formulated any sort of plan in her mind, she found herself pushing open the door and stepping inside.

Alma was situated behind her desk dealing with another customer, while Trixie was standing behind the counter and offered a warm smile as she entered. Catherine did her best to return it and yet found that her stomach was churning. Eventually, the previous customer rose to his feet and took his leave and Alma gestured for her to step forward.

"Good morning Mrs Swearengen," she said, greeting her with a smile. "It's wonderful to see you looking so well again so soon after your recent difficulties."

"Thank you," Catherine replied, somewhat discomfited by her words. "I would like to open an account, if I may."

Alma nodded, "Of course, but I had always thought your interests were kept in the Gem."

"Not any longer," Catherine replied. "I may shortly be coming into a sum of money and, if that is to be the case, I would wish it to be placed somewhere safe."

"Well, there is no place safer than the Bank of Deadwood," Alma replied. "I take security very seriously..."

"You need not sell the fucking place to me," Catherine interrupted acerbically. "Being the only bank in camp, it ain't as if I have many other choices. Please, just tell me what I have to do to open the account and...and how it can be managed."

"It's very straightforward," Alma lifted a ledger. "I will write your information in here and pass it to Mr Star to note in his own ledger. When you make a deposit, it will be noted in both ledgers to avoid mistakes or miscalculations. If you wish to withdraw your money at any point, that too will be noted in both ledgers."

"How much do I need to deposit to open the account?"

"As much, or as little, as you wish. Did you have a figure in mind?"

"No," Catherine said, "not yet. It hasn't yet been decided. The proceeds of my divorce from Mr Swearengen, that is." She felt the air in the room grow dead and saw out of the corner of her eye that Trixie's mouth had dropped open in surprise.

Alma's face fell, "I'm so very sorry to hear that. I always believed that you and Mr Swearengen were very happy together."

"Well, appearances can be deceptive," Catherine got to her feet. "Thank you for your time, Mrs Ellsworth, and I'll return if and when I have the money to deposit. Good day." She had taken not ten steps out of the bank when she felt a hand grab her from behind and pull her around.

"Your fucking what from Mr Swearengen?" Trixie exclaimed.

"I'm sure you heard every word pretty fucking clearly," Catherine replied, shaking herself free from the other woman's hold.

"Your decision or his?"

"His."

"For what reason?"

"None that I care to discuss with you in the thoroughfare! I'm sure if you hasten to the Gem one of the girls will be more than happy to fill you in!"

And you ain't going to fight it?"

"On what grounds would I fight it? He's offered me continued partnership or my half in gold, so I'm considering taking the fucking gold."

"To do what with?" Trixie asked. "If you leave the Gem, where the fuck will you go?"

Catherine shook her head sadly, "I don't know, Trixie. I really don't know."

XXXX

"I don't like this one bit, Dan," Johnny declared, staring out of the open saloon door.

"Al said we wait, so we wait," Dan replied from his position behind the bar.

"But why does he have to wait for Hearst to send his man over here? Why couldn't Al have sent you or I over there?"

"Have you ever known Al to confide in either you or I the reasoning behind his decision-making?"

"No..."

"Well then." Dan wiped at an imaginary stain on the bar. "Whatever this sit-down's all about, we'll know soon enough. Surprised we ain't heard nothing from all the time Catherine's been spending with Hearst's wife."

"She ran out of here pretty quick this morning," Johnny observed. "But I didn't see her go into the hotel..."

"Who cares where she went?"

"I was just saying..." Johnny suddenly leapt to attention. "He's coming!"

"Who?" Dan leaned over the bar.

"Hearst's man!"

They both watched as Captain Turner crossed from the hotel to the Gem, holding an envelope in his hand. He came inside and stopped in front of Johnny, his expression holding no sign of friendly greeting.

"Morning," Dan said.

The Captain merely held out the letter for Johnny to take from him. "You want us to give this to Mr Swearengen?"

"Of course he fucking does," Dan said, coming around the bar and ripping it from Johnny's hand. "Tell Hearst we'll send word back to him."

"I'm to wait for his reply," Captain Turner replied.

"Well I'll just...I'll take it to him," Dan nodded. "You...you just wait there then."

Al was working at his desk when Dan burst in, waving the coveted letter aloft in his hand. "Said he wants to wait for a reply," he added, after handing it over.

Al sliced it open and read the words aloud. "Dear Mr Swearengen. Following our brief conversation yesterday evening, I'm writing simply to formalise our plans for a congenial meeting. I suggest we meet in the hotel dining room this evening with the option to move matters to a more private area should the necessity arise. I await your response from Captain Turner. Yours, George Hearst." He tossed the letter onto his desk.

"You want me to tell the Captain you ain't replying right now?" Dan asked. "Throw Hearst off his game?"

"No," Al replied. "Tell him seven o'clock."

Dan paused. "You sure, boss?"

"I have never been more sure of anything in my life," Al replied. "Take the message."

"Yes sir." Dan left the office and hurried back down the stairs into the bar, where it appeared the Captain had barely moved a muscle since he had left. "Mr Swearengen says seven o'clock. Can you remember that, cocksucker, or do you need me to write it down?"

The Captain didn't reply, but merely turned and walked out of the saloon.

Johnny shook his head. "I don't think you should have called him a cocksucker, Dan..."

XXXX

"Catherine!"

She turned at the sound of her name and saw Joanie hurrying across the thoroughfare towards her. Trixie's question had left her feeling bereft and she had wandered aimlessly for what seemed like hours but was, in reality, perhaps only minutes. "Joanie."

"Ain't seen much of you these last few days," the other woman said. "I guess that's on account of you befriending Hearst's wife."

"I didn't know you knew about that."

"Reckon most folks in camp know," Joanie said. "She ain't exactly a woman you can fail to notice."

"I suppose not."

"Is everything all right?" Joanie peered at her friend. "You look as if you're about to cry."

"No..." Catherine sighed, "no, it's not all right. Do you have time...?"

"Of course I do," Joanie linked arms with her. "Come with me to Shaughnessy's. We'll have some privacy there."

Moments later, Catherine found herself pouring out everything that had happened over the last few days and, before she knew it, she was sobbing uncontrollably in the other woman's arms. "I'm sorry..." she sniffed. "I don't..."

"It's all right," Joanie comforted her, gently. "Reckon I can understand your heartbreak."

"I just...I never would have thought..."

"That you could love him as you do?" Catherine nodded. "Wouldn't be much of a marriage if you didn't."

"I know, but...when we wed...I suppose...maybe I thought it was just the natural order. Someone to talk over where Daddy had left off. The fact that it was Al..." she shook her head. "I don't know what I expected. I don't know if I thought it meant a life together or was only a temporary situation. But now...the thought of it changing..."

"Isn't there anything you can do to change his mind?"

"He seems resolute."

"Can't you fight it?"

"I have no standing to fight it! A husband can do what he wishes!" She dashed her eyes fiercely. "Being in that saloon, day and night..."

"Then don't stay there," Joanie said. "Move out. Move on."

Catherine stared at her. "But I haven't decided what I'm going to do yet. Whether I'm going to stay in partnership or take my share."

"What does it matter either way? Neither option suggests you having to live at the Gem. Come and stay here. Shaunghnessy's got plenty of rooms for a decent price. And if you can put up with him being an awkward cunt, then all the better."

"I don't know..."

"Think about it. Give yourself a little distance from Al and it might make your decision all the easier."

XXXX

"I'm to meet with Mr Swearengen this evening."

Phoebe looked up from her book and surveyed her husband across the room. "Amicably, I do hope."

"What other way is there?"

"And what do you intend to discuss?"

"My intentions in the camp will no doubt be the main topic of conversation. I also hope to glean some information from him regarding Mrs Ellsworth and her claim."

"Really, how I do tire of the subject."

Hearst moved towards her. "Taking tea with Mrs Swearengen and the Sheriff's wife is all very well, Phoebe..."

"Would you prefer I simply knock on the woman's door and introduce myself?" Phoebe interrupted, tossing the book to one side. "For I get the distinct impression that you are irritated with me on the topic."

"It might do no harm seeing as Mrs Swearengen has not yet seen fit to introduce you herself."

"Fine. I shall make it my business to pay a call to the bank tomorrow," Phoebe sighed. "But really, George, I came here to spend some time with you, not run around as one of your many minions."

"And I am glad of your presence," Hearst said. "Let's hope it remains that way."

XXXX

Catherine knocked on the office door and waited to be granted entry. On Al's welcome, she pushed the door open and stepped inside, meeting his surprised expression with a passive one of her own.

"You see fit to knock?" he asked from his vantage behind his desk.

"Being as I don't sleep in here no more, it seemed appropriate," she replied.

"Well then, permit me to treat you as a visitor and ask you to sit," he gestured to the vacant chairs.

"No thank you. I'm only here seeking a copy of the document you showed me earlier. The one purporting to provide me with my share of the Gem?"

"Purporting? You doubt its veracity?"

"I would have learned nothing if not to question such a document rather than accept it at face value. In any event, my lawyer has requested sight of it."

Al leaned back in the chair and took off his glasses. "Your lawyer?"

"Yes. You encouraged me to seek legal advice and that's what I did. And he'll be arranging for Mr Star to independently value the Gem, so I would hope that I could rely on your assistance with that matter."

He stared at her, the righteous indignation pouring out of her. She clasped her purse tightly in both hands, her face drawn so as to reflect little, if any emotion, her stance rigid as though uncomfortable in his presence. It brought him no pleasure to see her so altered from the passionate, emotive woman she had been before he had made his request for divorce, the woman who most likely would no longer have worn her clothes had she visited him at this hour in the day.

"My assistance need not be sought by you, but is freely and willingly given," he replied softly. "Let the Jew do what he wishes in order to ensure fairness."

"Thank you," she replied, turning back to the door.

"I'm to meet with Hearst this evening at the hotel," he said, causing her to pause and turn back. "Sent his man over here with a note not two hours ago and I gave my reply." He saw a flicker in her eyes, something akin to concern. "We are, no doubt, to discuss his purpose in the camp."

"You intend attending alone?" He nodded. "Isn't that dangerous?"

"You don't believe me capable of self-preservation?"

"Of course I do, but..." she paused. "I'm sorry I have no information to arm you with. Phoebe talks little of Hearst's business interests and much about things of little or no consequence."

"If you're interested in the outcome, I'm more than happy to regale you later this evening when I return."

Catherine looked down. "I don't think I'll be here."

"You have plans of your own?"

"I mean, I don't think I'll be living here. I've been thinking on it, and I believe it would be for the best if I were to move elsewhere until this matter is...settled. Joanie told me today that there are rooms available at Shaughnessy's for a reasonable rate..."

"There ain't no reason for you to leave," Al interrupted her.

"Yes there is," she said softly, her eyes filling with tears. "There's every reason." She coughed, to cover the embarrassment of her emotions. "Perhaps you could have one of the boys let me know when I can have a copy of the document."

"Here," he reached into his desk drawer and pulled out a folded sheet of paper. "Take the original. I know what it says." He held it out to her and she took it, her fingers brushing against his in the process.

"Thank you."

"Cathy..."

The moment was suddenly broken by the door opening and Silas appearing. "Sorry," he said, making to leave again when he saw Catherine standing, "I didn't realise..."

"No need for apology, Silas," she said, "I was just leaving. Goodbye Al." With that, she moved past the newcomer out of the office, pulling the door closed behind her.

"I didn't mean to get in the way," Silas said to Al. "If I interrupted anything important..."

"You didn't," Al replied hurriedly. "Do me one favour though?"

"Sure."

"Get yourself round to Shaughnessy's before tonight and make sure the cost of Catherine's lodgings has been met for at least the next month."

"Her lodgings?" Silas frowned. "Is she leaving?"

"Yes, Adams, she's leaving."

"But..."

"Do I need to explain myself to you or will you simply do as I fucking ask?!"

Silas nodded. "I'll do as you fucking ask, even if I think you're being fucking stupid."

"What the fuck does that mean?" Al demanded.

"What the fuck do you think it means? Letting her walk out of here is the dumbest thing you've done since you were going to murder that Chink." He opened the door. "But my opinion didn't count for shit then so I doubt it counts for shit now."

When he had gone, Al opened his drawer and pulled out a fresh bottle of whisky, downing two glasses straight. Nothing irked him more than when someone else could point out he was making a mistake.


	7. Chapter 7

"Thank you for helping me with this," Catherine turned to Silas as they walked along the thoroughfare later that evening, carrying what few possessions she had. After informing Al that she would no longer be residing at the Gem, she had wasted no time in gathering together what little she had and enlisting Silas to help her transport it. "I'm sure Al would prefer to see me struggling alone. A final humiliation."

"I doubt that," Silas replied, sidestepping a large puddle of mud whilst attempting to balance a box full of clothes in his arms. "He cares about you more than you give him credit for."

"That's why he's divorcing me then," she said acidly, "because he cares so much." She immediately inwardly chided herself for her words. The last thing she wanted to do was air her dirty laundry in public any more so than it possibly had been already. Given the sight of the pair of them, it wasn't too much of a leap to assume that most of the camp would now have knowledge of what was transpiring. "I'm sorry," she said. "I don't mean to take this out on you. Not when you've been so good to me."

"I ain't done nothing."

"You've offered me your counsel...you haven't judged me..." she sighed heavily. "I wish I could have foreseen all of this."

"You would have acted differently?"

"Possibly. I might have been content to be Al's whore as opposed to being his wife. We could have satisfied each other physically and I could have pursued my own true feelings with another, whoever he might have been."

"That's why you ain't a whore," Silas opined. "You ain't never struck me as the kind of woman who could separate the two. Love and fucking that is," he added, in case she had missed his meaning.

"Maybe not," she said softly. "But I know now that he never loved me, even if he implied that he did, and I was a fool to think that he ever would."

"Anyways, if you want my opinion, I think this is a stupid idea," Silas said. "You moving all the way over here when you've got a perfectly good home at the Gem makes no fucking sense."

"I'm not welcome there anymore."

"That's bullshit and you know it. Regardless of what's happening between you and Al, it's still half your joint. You belong there. You got just as much right to be there as he does."

Catherine stopped and turned to look at him. "No I don't, Silas. I can still work there, run the girls, make sure everything's all right for them but as for living there..." she shook her head. "I can't stay there and watch while things return to the way they were before Al and I...it's...it's for the best that I do this."

"Running away ain't going to make things any better."

"I ain't running away," she replied angrily, as they approached Shaughnessy's makeshift office at the boarding house. "I'm doing what I need to do for myself." She gratefully put her bags down onto the ground and smiled at the boarding house owner in spite of herself. "I'm here for my room."

"Room seven. Over there," he replied, practically throwing the key at her, a look of suspicion on his face. "No noise, no mess and no male visitors are permitted at any time. I won't stand for it."

Catherine lifted the key from the counter. "I'll be sure to remember those rules. I don't know how long I'm going to be staying, but how much do I owe you in advance?"

Shaughnessy glanced at Silas, "It has already been taken care of."

"But I haven't paid you anything yet," she said, holding her purse aloft. She watched as he glanced at her companion again and rounded on Silas as realisation dawned.

"Al asked me to come by earlier and pay your lodgings for the next month," Silas said, before she could say anything.

"Did he now?" Catherine replied acerbically. "Well you can just get his fucking money back from Shaughnessy and take it back to Al. I can look after myself! I don't need him paying my fucking way!"

"The money has already been paid," Shaughnessy chipped in. "No refunds."

"You heard the man," Silas said. "Just accept it and think of it as Al trying to make amends for the wrong you believe he's done you."

"Fine," she said, lifting her bags again. "But he'll get every cent back and more. I don't want to owe him fucking anything."

XXXX

"You sure this is a good idea, boss?" Johnny asked, watching as Al readied himself for the meeting with Hearst. "Going over there yourself, I mean? Don't you think we ought to come with you?"

"This meeting is between me and fucking Hearst and us alone," Al replied, smoothing his jacket down. "I don't need you hanging around us like week old meat."

"I'm with Johnny on this one, boss," Dan added. "I know it ain't often as I would say that, but on this occasion I reckon you should have at least one of us there as back up, especially if he's got that Captain with him."

"No."

"But..."

"Dan, if I go over there, mob-handed, Hearst is going to think that I've got something to fear by meeting with him. Now that ain't the fucking impression I'd be inclined to give at this stage. This is merely a cordial meeting between two businessmen and a chance for me to learn what Hearst's true purpose here is. Christ knows Catherine's brought me fucking nothing on the subject." He looked around as Silas came into the room. "Speaking of Catherine, you see her settled?"

"Yes. Mind you, she wasn't exactly jumping for joy when she found out you'd paid for her lodgings."

"She'll accept it and be grateful for it," Al replied. "If she's determined to strike out on her own, she'll soon find out the true cost of things, starting with bed and fucking board. I wager that she will be back here within the week, horror struck at the things she has witnessed living at his shithole."

"If you say so."

"You got another fucking opinion you'd like to share on the subject, Adams?"

Silas looked away. "No."

"Perhaps you'd like to regale me further with marital advice?" The other man said nothing. "Good, then I'll thank you to simply do as I ask." Al turned from the mirror to the three men standing before him. "Do I look ready for a good ass-fucking?"

"Yes you do, boss," Johnny replied in a mistaken display of loyalty. "You surely do."

"Reckon if anyone's going to be getting an ass-fucking, it's Hearst," Dan said.

"Thank you, Dan," Al replied. "Thankfully I can count on someone to talk some fucking sense around here." Opening his desk drawer, he lifted his knife and secreted it in his waistband. "If I fail to return within the hour, one of you venturing to the hotel on a make believe quest for something other than a validation of my welfare, would not fucking go amiss."

"Sure thing, boss," Dan said.

"And Adams?" Silas turned as he was about to leave the room. "As forceful as you are with your opinion as to whether my actions towards Catherine are right or wrong, I appreciate you looking to her and hope I needn't ask for that to continue."

Silas nodded, "No problem."

XXXX

Catherine lifted the lamp from the table by the window and carried it over to sit beside the bed. The room was small, but even with her few meagre possessions on display, it still appeared cavernous. It was quiet too, so much quieter than she was used to. As she sat on the bed and lifted the book she had brought with her, she longed for the noise of the Gem...the tinkling of the piano, the shrieking of the girls, the hollering of the men.

She longed for Al, for the feel of his presence, for the knowledge that if she only turned her head he would be there, watching. How she missed that, in this strange place. Then she reminded herself of all that had happened and reassured herself that she had done the right thing by absenting herself from the Gem. Working there would be difficult enough without knowing that he lay only a few feet away from her, a different person from the one she had thought she knew. A person so clearly desperate to remove her from his life.

Carefully she prised the document from between the pages of her book and, opening it up, read the words neatly placed in Al's handwriting. Her half share of the Gem, in black and white before her. Tomorrow she would show it to Robert Finch so that he may no longer doubt her word. Tomorrow, Sol Star would begin his valuation of the Gem. Tomorrow would be the first step towards her own independence and the start of a brand new life.

XXXX

"I'm pleased that you agreed to meet with me this evening, Mr Swearengen," Hearst greeted Al at the door of the hotel. "As I said before, I see no reason why we two cannot converse as amiably as our spouses appear able." He gestured to a table in the far corner of the dining room, already busy with other patrons. "I thought you might appreciate the public nature of our meeting in the first instance."

"You think me mistrusting?" Al asked.

"Practical is the term I would use. Shall we?" Hearst led the way to the table and waited until both men were seated before resuming the conversation. "I must reiterate my thanks to your wife for befriending mine so ably. When I was considering whether she would be a suitable companion for Mrs Hearst, I could not have foreseen how well the venture would turn out."

"My own opinion on the situation would be that you indeed had a reasonable idea of how well the venture would turn out or you would not have asked Catherine in the first instance. I would even go so far as to say, that you had already formed an opinion of my wife to the extent that you felt there was little need for recourse to my own fucking feelings on the proposition before offering her the role in the manner that you did."

Hearst's gaze flickered slightly. "You're referring to my calling to Mrs Swearengen in the thoroughfare?"

"I am."

"You found it...offensive?"

"Catherine is her own woman, free to make her own choices. However..." Al sat forward. "Consider your own feelings on the matter if it had been myself calling to your wife from my balcony and inviting her into my establishment to discuss employment terms, bearing in mind that you know me no better than I know you and might be set to take fucking advantage of the lady."

"I take your point. I can only apologise if you feel that I acted out of turn. I assure you that my dealings with Mrs Swearengen on this matter had no nefarious purpose. Though she is a handsome woman, I find my attentions firmly focused on that of my own."

"And I accept your assurance, Mr Hearst. Had I cause to be further irked by the manner of your proposition, you would have seen evidence of it by now." Al sat back, satisfied that he had made his point. The other man might believe himself master of all he surveyed, but there was no harm in a gentle reminder that not everything, or everyone, could be bought and sold without recourse.

"Do you come armed to our meeting?" Hearst asked.

"No more to meet with you than to meet with any other," Al replied. "And I am glad that, given your apology, I will have no need to resort to use."

"I'm glad that we have managed to put that particular issue to rest," Hearst said as Richard on scuttled over to the table with two cups of coffee, planted them down and scuttled away again. "Does coffee suffice or would something harder meet more with your approval?"

"Coffee's fine."

"I would hate for us to start our relationship off on the wrong foot when I am so grateful to Mrs Swearengen. Though...I do admit to a certain curiosity."

"Pertaining to what?" Al asked, lifted his cup.

"Pertaining to the sight I believe I witnessed earlier this evening as your man assisted Mrs Swearengen in the removal of what I would have considered many personal items from the Gem and the conveyance of them to the nearby boarding house." Al paused, cup halfway to his mouth. "When I mentioned the same to Mrs Hearst she was most distressed. I do hope all is well."

"I thank you for your interest, Mr Hearst, but all is very well. Notwithstanding the sweet natures of our respective spouses however, I assume the purpose of this meeting was to discuss more than the comfort of our own hearths?"

"Indeed," Hearst replied. "Though I must say I find this camp and its inhabitants most intriguing. Beyond those closely aligned with yourself, I mean."

"In what sense?"

"Take the Mrs Ellsworth as example," he continued. "A most fortunate position she has found herself in due, in no small measure, to her first husband's untimely demise."

"She operates one hell of a gold claim, I'll give her that," Al replied, grateful that the conversation had steered itself away from Catherine. "Some people have a great deal of luck."

"I don't believe in luck, Mr Swearengen. I believe in hard work and the success which that work breeds," Hearst replied, his expression hardening. "I have not built up my operations in the Comstock on the basis of luck."

"Nor I mine."

"You indeed strike me as a man capable of appreciating the hard work required for success," Hearst acknowledged. "Which is why I hope for your assistance in the task I find before me.

"With regards to...?"

"My securing the Ellsworth claim."

Al paused, surprised at how unsurprised he was at finally learning of the other man's purpose. Though there had been no real reason to suspect it, it had seemed the most obvious conclusion to draw. Why else would George Hearst have seen fit to visit the camp?

"You do not appear surprised," Hearst commented.

"I suppose I don't."

"I have not had the pleasure of meeting with Mrs Ellsworth yet on this matter, nor her husband, and therefore I must confess to being ignorant as to how she may receive my advances to her. I had hoped that the companionship afforded to my wife by yours might have led to an introduction."

"Catherine has few dealings with Mrs Ellsworth as I understand it," Al replied, a germ of realisation beginning to grow at the back of his mind. "She may have occasion to meet with her if she were to frequent the bank but they ain't exactly comparative socialites."

"Such a pity that your wife hasn't had the foresight that I suspect you might have shared with me had you been in my position and had an interest in securing the claim."

"I would question your knowing me well enough to be able to judge whether I would have had the foresight of which you speak, or indeed whether or not interest in the claim may have, at one time, been my own intention."

Hearst stroked his chin thoughtfully. "Without you saying the words, Mr Swearengen, I can see that we do indeed share a common interest."

"I have no interest in the woman's claim," Al said.

"I'm referring to the advantages that the companionship between our respective spouses might have brought each of us. My interest in securing a way to the Ellsworth claim and your interest in securing the knowledge of my purpose in the camp. I would reiterate how sorrowful it is that I have gained no such advantage while you..."

"Have merely deduced the reason for your being in camp with no recourse to my wife in any way," Al interrupted hurriedly, lest the other man have cause to lay some form of blame at Catherine's door. It was becoming all too clear that his purpose in securing her as companion had had little to do with his wife's comfort and everything to do with his business intentions. "In any event, I fail to see how you consider I could assist you in your advances to Mrs Ellsworth. She and I are little but passing acquaintances."

"I often find in business that a practical approach is not often the best way to secure what I want. Matters can become confused and long-winded when really all that is required is a straightforward yes to any offer made."

"You assume that she would agree to any offer you would make."

"I assume nothing, Mr Swearengen, and expect everything," Hearst sat back in his chair. "I am not a man who takes kindly to being told that I cannot acquire that which I am seeking. Therefore, as I have said, the practical approach is not favoured. I wish the claim as part of my holdings and I shall have the claim as part of my holdings."

Hearst's intention was becoming all too clear to Al, and he wasn't sure that he altogether supported it. Offering the woman money, as he himself had once done, was one thing, but a veiled threat if she did not agree to sell without impunity, was another. As a younger man, he might have favoured the approach put forward but now, older and wiser and with considerations for those other than himself, he found the suggestion somewhat unpalatable.

"Then I wish you the very best in your endeavours," he said finally. "But as to assistance in executing a plan such as I would wager has already been formulated in your own mind, I must confess to being more suited to the sidelines, observing the action from afar."

Hearst's brow furrowed, "I need not commend to you the advantages that my securing of the claim would bring to you and to this camp. Many more so than could ever be achieved without it?"

"I have no interest in what you consider could be brought to the camp," Al replied. "I plough my own furrow, Mr Hearst, and am content to leave you to plough yours."

"Is it to be your final word that you will not assist me in the securing of the claim held by Mrs Ellsworth?" Hearst asked.

"It is my final word," Al confirmed. "You wish to discuss proper business with the woman, you have my support. In wishing the camp to prosper I would not stand in the way of commerce. But threats, idly issued against a resident of the camp purely on the basis that you hold yourself out as having greater entitlement to the gold to be found in these hills than any other, are likely to meet with resistance not only from my quarter, but others also."

"You seek to threaten me in return?"

"I seek to simply advise you on the consequences that might befall such aggressive actions carried out on your part by you or those in your employ." Al drained his glass. "And if that will be all, I believe that our meeting has concluded for the evening. I thank you for your hospitality, Mr Hearst, and bid you goodnight." He got to his feet and began threading his way through the tables towards the door, when Hearst's voice caused him to pause.

"Such a beautiful sky this afternoon, wouldn't you have said?"

Al glanced back before continuing walking, "Can't say as I noticed."

"I did. A wonderful colour...a most dazzling blue."

"I'll have to take your word for that."

"Reminded me very much of the blue of Mrs Swearengen's eyes."

Al stopped at the door and turned slowly back to look at the other man, sat comfortably as he was in the chair, his hands behind his head, his gaze unwavering. He waited for the punch line of the joke, the dismissal of the comment as pure ridicule meant in good taste. But it didn't come. Hearst continued to watch him, the only flicker of emotion on his face being the slight upturning of the corners of his mouth. It was not a mirthful smile, but rather one that held the promise of danger. A danger that no other customer in the hotel that evening would have recognised, except himself.

"I'll be sure to pass on your compliment to her," Al replied, before stepping out into the night and taking a deep lungful of air. He made his way hurriedly back over into the Gem where Dan was waiting at the bar, a glass of whisky already poured. Without speaking, Al drank it whole, his mind going over and over what had just transpired.

"Well?" Dan asked.

"Well what?"

"How did it go? "

Al paused, torn between telling the other man of Hearst's last words and the implications they held and remaining silent. To have spoken of Catherine so admiringly at first meeting and then ended same with a thinly veiled threat on her safety...he wished he had pulled out his knife then and there and gutted him. Instinctively, he lifted his gaze upwards to the closed door of his office, imagining her within, where he could go to her, tell her of what had been said and reassure her that her protection was guaranteed. But she wasn't there. She was ensconced at Shaughnessy's, alone and with little regard left for him.

"Boss?" Dan broke into his thoughts again.

"I'm going to pay a call," he advised, downing another glass and then purposefully heading for the door. "Anyone needs me, I'll be at Shaughnessy's."


	8. Chapter 8

When the knock came at the door, Catherine had been just about to retire to bed in an attempt to have her first decent night's sleep in what seemed like weeks. So she was none too impressed at the interruption. For a moment, she considered ignoring it in the hope that her visitor would simply leave, but when the knock came again, more insistent this time, she knew she would have to answer it. After all, she reasoned, it could be something important.

Lifting her shawl from the chair, she wrapped it around herself and moved over to the door. Pulling it open a fraction, she was surprised to see the figure of her husband, his face barely lit by the nearby lamps, on the other side. For a brief moment, her heart leapt, but then she reminded herself of all that had happened, all that he had said, and her hope was immediately replaced by anger.

"Al?"

He smiled at her as she opened the door wider. "I came to see how your new surroundings were suiting you."

She pulled her shawl tighter around her body, unwilling for him now to see what she had been so desperate to give him before. "I'm sure you're well enough acquainted with this place to know the answer to that yourself."

"Ain't you going to invite me in?" he asked, spreading his hands.

"No male callers," she replied acerbically. "It's Shaughnessy's number one rule."

Al glanced towards the empty receiving area. "Well unless he's hiding and watching us from afar, reason dictates he'll have no knowledge of my presence. Besides," he smiled at her again, "given I'd wager that he's afraid of me, I doubt his rule extends to my own visiting."

"You'd like to believe that, wouldn't you?" Catherine said disdainfully, "that everyone in camp is afraid of you. I'm sure it's of much regret to you that I no longer am. Oh, there may have been a time before when your mere presence unsettled me, but not now. " She watched as the smile faded from his face and felt a perverse sense of satisfaction at his discomfort.

"Cathy..."

"I don't have the money right now but I intend to recompense you for your kind act in paying for these lodgings."

He shrugged nonchalantly, seemingly choosing to ignore her sarcasm. "There's no need."

"There's every need. It makes me feel fucking sick that I owe any debt to you" Al stared at her. "Was there something else?"

"You're refusing me entry?" he confirmed, seemingly stunned by her position.

"I can't think you have anything to say that I wish to hear," she replied. "You've made your feelings perfectly clear on a number of topics these last few days. Besides, you might legally still have a right to my body, but you have no right to enter my new home."

He set his jaw grimly. "Am I to take it that you continue your associations with Hearst's wife?"

"Is that what this is about? You come here to question me on what I may have learned to your advantage? I'm sorry to have to inform you, Al, that nothing of any consequence has reached my ear. Besides, weren't you to meet yourself with this man this evening?"

"I was."

"And?" He hesitated. "Did the meeting not pass off well? Did Hearst not drop to his knees and confess all to you of his plans for the camp?"

"It passed off well enough," he replied shortly. "Hearst's intentions became all too clear."

"Then you will have no further need to discuss the matter with me." She moved to close the door over, only for him to jam his foot against it. "Take your fucking foot away from my door!"

"Catherine..."

"Remove your foot or risk fucking losing it!"

"You really do hate me now, don't you?" he said, his expression somewhat wounded.

She fought hard against blurting out what she really wanted to say...that she could never hate him...that she loved him...that she would come home to the Gem right now if he would say that things could return to what they had been previously...

"Were my words unclear?" was what she chose to say.

"No," he said quietly, moving his foot away.

"Good."

Before he could say any more, she slammed the door hard in his face and then leant against it for support at the sound of his retreating footsteps. Soon it would all be over. Soon they would be divorced and she would be mistress of her own destiny. Soon she would know the true value of the Gem and be able to make an informed choice.

To stay in the camp or to leave it.

XXXX

Al strode back towards the Gem, every step only serving to increase his anger. Fucking cunt, he thought to himself, fucking, selfish, tight-assed cunt. Too fucking full of her own self importance to fucking listen...too choked with her own righteous fucking indignation! As he approached the hotel, he glanced up, half expecting to find Hearst on his veranda, but it was deserted. He paused, momentarily wondering how easy it would be to get to the man and, at that very moment, put blade to his throat and forever silence his vicious threats.

"Reminded me very much of the blue of Mrs Swearengen's eyes..."

It would, in all probability, be a futile exercise. Were he even to get as far as Hearst himself and do his worst, Bullock would no doubt ensure he swung from the hangman's noose. Instead, he turned back towards the Gem and, ignoring Dan, made his way towards the stairs, calling on Silas to join him in his office as he passed.

"I want you keeping an eye on her," Al said, closing the door behind them.

"Keeping an eye on who?"

"Catherine," he snarled, pulling a bottle from his drawer, "who the fuck do you think?"

"Ain't we been down this road before?" Silas asked. "You've had me watch her in the past and it ain't gone down well when she's figured it out."

"I'd expect a man like you to learn from past mistakes, Adams," Al replied, downing a shot. "Make it so that she doesn't figure it out. Make it so that you are quiet as a church mouse and as invisible as a ghost."

Silas paused, "Is there something going on that I should be aware of? I mean, is there something I'm supposed to be watching out for?" He waited. "Or perhaps...someone?"

Al sat down heavily in his chair and contemplated the honey coloured liquid in the bottle in front of him. "Fucking Hearst," he said finally, "makes threats towards her."

"Hearst?"

"This very evening when I met him in the hotel to discuss his purpose in camp."

"Which is?"

"As anticipated, to move on the claim held by Mrs Ellsworth. To incorporate it into his own fucking holdings, whether the woman feels inclined to sell to him or not. He presumed that I would be in a position to help facilitate this and when I advised him that forcing the woman to transact with him, through violence if necessary, was not how I personally saw matters progressing he saw fit to make veiled threat against Catherine's safety." He poured himself another glass. "His purpose in soliciting her as companion to his wife was not to ensure Mrs Hearst's own comfort whilst in the camp but as a means to get either to Mrs Ellsworth herself or, as back up, to me."

"Well what sort of fucking threat has he made?"

"The wording is not important, Adams, the action is."

"And have you told her? Catherine, that is?"

"I ventured to her quarters immediately after the meeting with Hearst was concluded fully intending to advise her of what I had learned and to seek her return here, where she could be adequately protected, and her assurance that her association with that family was at an end, but..." he downed another glass.

"She didn't wish to hear it?"

"I didn't even get that fucking far. Suffice to say, I was lucky to leave the meeting able to walk on two working feet." He stared at the wall. "That woman will be the death of me, one way or another."

XXXX

When the second knock came, mere minutes after she had closed the door on him, Catherine couldn't help but be stunned at Al's brazenness. To come to her again after she had told him in no uncertain terms to leave could, in all likelihood, only mean one thing. His temper was up. He wished to chastise her for her manner towards him. Well, if he sought a fight, then she was more than happy to give him one. Throwing the door open, mouth opened to rebuke him, she was stunned to find, not her husband, but another man standing at the door, a man she vaguely recognised, but couldn't quite place. "Oh!"

"My apologies for disturbing you at this late hour," he said, taking his hat off, "but we appear to be neighbours."

"We do?"

"I'm renting the room next door with my brother," he confirmed, "He likes spending his evenings gambling at the Bella Union but I was within and I couldn't help but overhear the...discussion you were having with that other gentleman a few moments ago. Your husband, I presume?" Catherine nodded mutely. "I simply wanted to ensure that all was well."

"I..." Catherine paused, not sure what she should say. She had had no idea anyone had overheard the argument with Al, no idea that anyone would even have cared. "Wait a moment," she said, recognition suddenly dawning. "We've met before, haven't we?"

He smiled at her, "We literally crossed paths in the thoroughfare a few days ago. I knocked into you."

"Yes, yes of course. It's Mr...Earp, isn't it?"

"Wyatt," he held out his hand and she found herself taking it in her own. "I know from my own dealings with him at the Gem that your visitor was Mr Swearengen so I have to assume that you're Mrs Swearengen?"

"Yes," she replied. "Catherine."

"A pleasure to finally make your acquaintance properly, Catherine."

"And yours." They stood for a moment, looking at each other. She knew that he must be wondering why a married couple would be living apart and she was about to invite him in when propriety won out. "I would ask you to come inside..."

"No," he interrupted. "I wouldn't want to disturb you at this late hour. I simply wanted to satisfy myself that all was well and that you had successfully managed to persuade your husband to leave."

"Well, I..."

"Remove your foot or risk fucking losing it?" he grinned. "I think I liked that remark best of all."

Catherine smiled too, "I suppose it must have sounded ridiculous from your vantage."

"Not at all. Concerning, was more the word I would use, hence my being here."

"You were concerned for my safety?"

"More for Mr Swearengen's. I half expected to see him limp away, minus a good foot."

She laughed in spite of herself. "Well, I thank you for your concern, be it for me or him."

Wyatt put his hat back on his head, "I'll bid you goodnight then."

"Goodnight Mr Earp. Wyatt."

"Goodnight Catherine."

She closed the door behind him, touched at his concern. It seemed so long since another man, quite unexpectedly, had shown interest in her. Indeed, poor Harry Manning would have been the last. Since their mutual declaration on the balcony all those months ago, every waking moment, every thought had been for Al. Sliding finally into the haven of the bedclothes, Catherine couldn't help but consider that a future as the ex-Mrs Swearengen meant no restriction on who she could and couldn't consort with. Perhaps there was the possibility of happiness with another. Perhaps...

August 2nd 1876

"Mrs Swearengen, how nice to see you this morning."

Catherine paused in her ascent towards Phoebe's room as Hearst himself appeared on the landing, dressed clearly for another day at his diggings. He lifted his hat in greeting to her and stepped to one side to allow her to complete her rise.

"Good morning Mr Hearst," she replied.

"I know that my wife is looking forward to spending time with you again this afternoon. She was sorry not to have the pleasure of your company yesterday."

What with her meeting with Robert Finch and her deciding to leave the Gem, taking tea with Phoebe had not been high on Catherine's list of activities the previous day. But, mindful of the fact that the money being paid to her for her companionship could only serve to add to whatever she might receive by way of settlement from Al, she chose a conciliatory response. "My apologies for not being available yesterday. Unfortunately, I had some personal business to attend to. I hope that Mrs Hearst didn't find herself at too much of a loss."

"She managed to fill her time," he replied. "A venture to the Bank of Deadwood and an introduction to Mrs Ellsworth helped put in her time." He touched his hat again. "I must be on my way to the diggings."

"You met with my husband yesterday evening," Catherine said as he passed her, suddenly filled with curiosity. "He said it passed off well."

Hearst looked at her. "Your husband discusses business with you freely?"

"On occasion, though he didn't divulge the content of your discussions."

"I must say I found him a very pleasant fellow," Hearst confirmed. "I think we understood each other's purposes well enough. Good day Ma'am." Touching his hat again, he lumbered down the stairs and disappeared from view.

Though her curiosity was piqued as to what had been discussed, yet not wanting to keep Phoebe waiting, she turned and knocked on the room door.

"Catherine, thank goodness!" Phoebe declared when she saw her. "Come inside, come inside!"

"Is something the matter?" Catherine asked as Phoebe propelled her inside and then closed the door firmly behind her.

"I understand our husbands met downstairs last night," Phoebe said, motioning for her to sit down. "I don't know how Mr Swearengen was disposed thereafter, but there was definitely something amiss with George's temper when he returned."

"Amiss how?"

"I couldn't quite put my finger on it and he refused to elaborate." She leaned forward in her chair. "Are you party to the outcome of their discussions?"

"Well...no, not especially."

"Not especially?"

"Al said the meeting had passed off well, but as to the content of same, I'm afraid I am as much in the dark as you."

Phoebe sighed and sat back. "I honestly wonder sometimes why he agreed to my coming here for all the time we spend together." She looked at her companion out of the corner of her eye. "He did tell me, however, that he had seen you and one of your husband's men moving what George described as personal possessions from the Gem to the nearby boarding house." She left the inference dangling, only speaking again when Catherine remained silent. "My dear...has something happened?"

"It's...complicated," Catherine replied. "And not something I feel ready to discuss."

"I understand completely," Phoebe replied. "I have no wish to press you on the subject."

"I met Mr Hearst on the stairs as I arrived," Catherine swung the conversation away from herself. "He told me that you went to the bank yesterday."

"Yes, I took it upon myself to visit and introduce myself to Mrs Ellsworth. A charming woman and so brave, taking on such a venture on her own, especially when she has a husband. You and I both know how restricting marriage can be."

"Yes," Catherine replied softly. "I know exactly what you mean."

XXXX

"I hope this won't be awkward for you."

Al surveyed Sol across his desk and cocked his head on one side. "In what way?"

"Well, being as I'm here to make a valuation of your business...I would hope you wouldn't see me as being, well, an inconvenience."

"You're serving a purpose, Mr Star, and doing a job that can only benefit me in the long run," Al replied. "What is it that you need to peruse?"

"The books would be a good place to start," Sol replied, taking off his hat. "I would hope not to be here for too long such as to detract from business."

Al moved over to the safe and crouched in front of it. "Given as fucking doesn't take place in my office, at least not any more, there is no detraction from business that you could make." He pulled the door open and lifted out the ledgers in question. "I hope that you find everything clear and concise enough for you."

"I'm sure I will," Sol replied, taking them from him.

"Please," Al gestured to his desk. "Make yourself comfortable. Drink?"

"Oh, no thank you. I'd rather just get this done."

"As you please." Al opened the door and stepped out onto the balcony, almost bumping into Jewel in the process. "I've already eaten," he said, glancing down at the tray in her hands.

"It ain't for you," she replied. "I thought he might want a breakfast."

"It's two in the afternoon." Jewel shrugged. "Jesus Christ, by all means feed the fucking Jew!" Pushing past her, he made his way along the balcony and down the stairs into the bar, accepting a waiting drink from Dan.

"He up there?"

"If you're referring to the Jew, he's merely carrying out the instructions provided by Catherine's lawyer." He cast his eyes around the room. "She been here?"

"No sir. E.B. appeared earlier to say he'd seen her leave the hotel with Mrs Hearst."

"Cunt needs reminding that she's still employed here. Any sign of Hearst?"

"No."

Al nodded and made his way to the front door. As he looked out at the comings and goings of the camp, he was almost immediately rewarded by the sight of Catherine and Phoebe rounding the corner past the Bella Union and making their way in his direction. Phoebe was talking animatedly, Catherine nodding every now and then in agreement. Stepping forwards, he decided now was as good a time as any to introduce himself to Hearst's wife and to let her in on the state of their affairs. Reason stood that she would, in turn, inform Hearst himself, which would surely lend him to conclude that hurting Catherine would bring him no advantage.

When she saw him approaching, Catherine stopped in her tracks and put her hand on Phoebe's arm. The other woman looked at her and then followed her gaze, breaking into a smile when she saw him.

"You must be Mr Swearengen," she said before he could speak.

"And reason deduces that you must be Mrs Hearst," Al replied, taking her outstretched hand and kissing it gently. "The lady who occupies my wife so readily these days."

"Oh, I'm most grateful to Catherine for her companionship," Phoebe said, linking her arm with her friend. "This camp is very intimidating to outsiders, but Catherine has been wonderful. It's a pleasure to finally make your acquaintance too," she continued. "Especially as you and I are the only two out of this little set up not to have met."

"My own business interests keep me occupied," Al replied. "I'm pleased to hear that you're settling in well." He turned to Catherine. "The Jew busies himself in my office at present valuing your share." Her eyes widened. "You should hopefully have a figure to take to your lawyer by the end of the day."

Phoebe's head swung between them both at an alarming pace, her eyes agog.

"Th...thank you," Catherine stuttered.

"Well there seems little point in dragging the sorry end of our marriage out for too long." His own words pierced him, for he could see that despite her words the previous evening, they only served to upset her now.

"Oh my goodness," Phoebe said softly, "perhaps I should allow you to speak in private..."

"No need Mrs Hearst," Al replied brightly, his eyes never leaving his wife's. "There should be no secret in the fact that we are to divorce. No shame in admitting when it becomes impossible to carry on. I'm sure Catherine will do well out of our parting."

"Mr Swearengen, I see you have now had the pleasure of meeting my wife."

All parties cast their gazes upwards to where Hearst himself stood on his veranda.

"George!" Phoebe exclaimed, recovering herself well. "Yes, we had the good fortune to run into Mr Swearengen upon our return."

"As I see."

"And a very pleasant woman your wife is, Mr Hearst," Al replied. "I see now for myself the amiableness between her and my own wife that you have described."

"I thought you would still be at the diggings?" Phoebe enquired.

"Another matter bade me return here," Hearst replied. "Which is most fortuitous, seeing as I would like the opportunity to speak with Mrs Swearengen. Won't you two ladies come inside?"

Al turned back to Catherine and saw that she had managed to push away the threatening tears. Despite all that had been said, he wanted to tell her not to go inside, wanted to take her by the arm and drag her into the Gem, away from Hearst and his intentions, whatever they may be. As she met his gaze, he imagined he saw something similar in her own eyes, a wish to be stopped, a wish for him to exert his marital authority, but it was only that, an imagination.

"Well," Phoebe said, linking her arm with Catherine's again. "I can't imagine what he wants, but shall we go and find out?"

"Yes," Catherine replied, finally tearing her gaze away from his and allowing the other woman to guide her to the hotel entrance.

Al watched until they had disappeared and then looked back up at Hearst, who was wearing the same self satisfied smile he had the previous evening.

"Mr Swearengen," he said, touching his hat.

"Mr Hearst."


	9. Chapter 9

As she followed Phoebe up the stairs to where Hearst waited for them, Catherine replayed the conversation over and over in her mind. Al had been so direct, so open, with a secret that she had believed was truly that. There were few in camp who had known of it and now, now she feared that soon everyone would know and she would be forced to answer questions that she wasn't ready for.

"Thank you for acceding to my request," Hearst said, when they entered the chamber. "I apologise for calling to you once again in the thoroughfare, though you must be used to that from me by now."

"And before your time," Catherine said, "my own husband thinks nothing of doing it."

"Please," he motioned to the chair by the window and she sat in it, Phoebe taking her place on the low chaise beside her husband. "I appreciate this might come somewhat out of the blue, Mrs Swearengen, but I have discussed this with Phoebe and she is in agreement with me."

"I am?" Phoebe asked innocently.

"My dear, we discussed it but a few short nights ago," Hearst said, patting her hand. "Indeed, it was your own suggestion." Phoebe stared at him. "To invite Mrs Swearengen to accompany you home to San Francisco for a visit, when the time comes that is."

"Of course!" Phoebe exclaimed, clapping her hands together and turning shining eyes on her new friend. "How could I have forgotten such a thing?!"

"San Francisco?" Catherine echoed. It was a place she had heard of, read about and yet had never imagined in her wildest dreams that she would ever see.

"My wife speaks very highly of you, Mrs Swearengen, and expressed the opinion that you might find yourself very much at home in our fair city. From what I myself have observed of you, I do believe her opinion is well founded."

"I...I don't know what to say," she said, her brain completely overwhelmed. "I..."

"You need not answer now," Hearst said hurriedly, "My business interests keep me here for perhaps another week at most and there would be much to consider on your side before undertaking such a journey. Discussion with your husband, of course, as to whether he would allow you to make the trip. I doubt we are liable to persuade Mr Swearengen to travel with you."

"Oh Catherine..." Phoebe exclaimed, her expression suddenly downcast. "After everything that's just been said..." Hearst frowned. "George..." Phoebe put her hand to her chest. "It would seem, if I have understood matters correctly, that Catherine and Mr Swearengen are to divorce! Why, only a few moments ago he was advising her on the imminent valuation of her settlement!"

"Divorce?" Hearst echoed. "Well I am most grieved to hear that if it be the truth."

"Yes..." Catherine said softly. "It is the truth."

"Then perhaps you might consider a more permanent move to the city, if there be nothing here to hold you to the camp and you find yourself with the appropriate funds." He looked at her earnestly. "I know how much Phoebe would enjoy your company and it could be the start of a whole new life for you."

"Yes," she said again, the idea becoming more and more appealing the more she thought on it. "Yes it certainly could..."

XXXX

Relief flooded Al when he saw Catherine walk into the Gem later that evening to take her turn watching over the whores. Their interaction in the thoroughfare had been ill-timed given the following request made by Hearst and he worried that it had only served to make her more disposed to whatever it was he had discussed with her. He was sure that he would never forget the devastation he had seen in her eyes. As she approached the bar now, however, she met his gaze and he found that he couldn't read her eyes. They appeared almost dead to him in a way that he had never seen before.

His fingers closed around the piece of paper secreted in his pocket bearing the value of her share of the Gem. The Jew had taken but a few short hours to reach a conclusion and Al had added a little extra to the calculation in an attempt to assuage his own feelings of guilt at the transaction.

As she took a drink from Davie, he moved over towards her, taking the paper out of his breast pocket.

"Duty done with the Hearst woman?" he enquired, stopping in front of her.

"For today, at least," she replied, meeting his gaze only briefly before casting it around the room, instinct leading her straight to the girls.

"Good." He itched to ask her what had subsequently transpired in the hotel, but elected instead to spare himself the inevitable rebuke querying would bring. "I have this for you."

"What is it?" she asked, as he held it out to her.

"The value of your share in this place, independently verified by the Jew." She took it from him, opened it and read the figure, her expression betraying nothing. "I trust it meets with your approval."

She pocketed it in her dress. "I'll show it to my lawyer tomorrow. He'll know best how to judge it."

"Figure ain't going to change."

"I'm aware of that."

"I can but hope, that you might chose continued partnership here than the alternative of the gold."

"And why would you hope that?" Catherine asked raising her chin defiantly. "We are nothing to each other anymore." She turned away. "You'll have an answer from me by this time tomorrow."

XXXX

"San Francisco?" Trixie echoed as they sat at a table in the corner, she having ventured into her old place of employment to seek Catherine out and question her more about what had transpired between herself and Al. "You mean, forever?"

"I don't know," Catherine replied in a low voice that carried just above the noise from the piano. "The initial offer, as I understand it, was to accompany Phoebe as a friend for a time. To have her show me that city as I have shown her this camp and then for me to return here. But when she told Hearst that Al and I were to divorce, he immediately suggested it as a permanent arrangement."

"And?" Trixie pressed her. "How do you feel about it?"

Catherine glanced over to where Al was standing conversing with Merrick. "There would seem little to keep me here." Reaching into her pocket, her fingers closed over the piece of paper he had given her. "My share of this place would aid in setting me up somewhere far away from Deadwood."

"As what? A whoremistress? Why would you seek to do that away from folks you know, folks that look out for you?"

"And why would I need to be a whoremistress?" she replied angrily. "Is that all anyone thinks me capable of achieving? Why couldn't I start up my own place? Or perhaps a store selling dresses and other fine things? Or perhaps the money might let me live as a lady for a while. I'm going to turn twenty-two years old in a matter of days and what have I achieved? Partnership in a whorehouse and marriage to a man old enough to be my Daddy. Now...now I could do anything I wanted, with whomever I wanted." As she spoke the words, she suddenly caught sight of Wyatt entering the saloon and slowly making his way to the bar to purchase a drink.

Trixie followed her gaze and immediately caught the other woman's meaning. "Are you out of your fucking mind? Right under Al's nose?"

"What are you implying?" Catherine demanded. "He came to my room the other evening after Al had chosen to quarrel with me on the doorstep to ensure that all was well. He seems affable enough to call a friend."

"Al ain't going to see it that way."

"Right now, I don't give a fuck what Al thinks," Catherine got to her feet. "He has made the situation perfectly plain and I, for one, don't see why I should become a recluse on the strength of it." Leaving her drink on the table, she moved over to the bar, in time to catch Wyatt's gaze as he turned around and fixed him with her best smile. "I would have thought you would have been more inclined to join your brother at the Bella Union."

"I'm a poor gambler," he replied with a smile.

"Aren't they all?"

"Me more than most and highly liable to lose more than my shirt." His eyes flickered across her face. "Can I buy you a drink?"

"Whisky, thank you." She waited while Davie poured it and then sipped it slowly, one side of her body leaning against the bar. "So, is it your intention to remain in camp with your brother?"

"We won a timber lease in a lucky hand of cards. We figured we'd come out here and see if we could make it work."

"I thought you said you were a poor gambler?"

"I am, that one occasion aside."

"Are you any better at working timber?"

"I guess the proof of that will make itself apparent, one way or the other." He smiled at her again. "I was a lawman back in Kansas, but I didn't seem to make out too well in that department either."

"You should speak with Sheriff Bullock," Catherine said. "You could become his deputy."

"I got no interest in that quarter anymore," Wyatt shook his head. "What of you? You work here for your husband?"

"We're partners," she replied. "My daddy left me his share in this place on his death and it passed to me in turn. My husband, very generously, agreed it could remain mine upon marriage rather than be forfeited to him as per the normal course of events."

"That is generous and somewhat unexpected from a man such as your husband."

"I suppose so," she downed the remainder of the contents of her glass. "I should hopefully receive a good price for it once matters are settled."

Wyatt looked at her carefully. "Then your living at the boarding house...?"

"Is a somewhat temporary arrangement," she conceded. "At least, until I decide what to do and where to go. I'll never come back here though, I know that much for sure."

"You think you might leave the camp?"

Catherine glanced over his shoulder to where she could see Al watching them from a distance. "I very well might, Mr Earp, I very well might."

XXXX

"What a fortuitous turn of events," Hearst said, drying his face at the washbowl and turning back to where Phoebe was undressing for bed. "Who could have foreseen that Mr and Mrs Swearengen would be destined to part?"

"I think it's terrible," Phoebe lamented. "The poor girl clearly feels wretched about the whole thing."

"And yet she seemed open to the suggestion that she accompany us back to San Francisco next week."

"Why you're so keen on the idea, I confess I do not know. I like the idea of her continued company and friendship and I know that she would fit in so well at home with a little refining. Smooth her edges, so to speak."

"Which you are more than capable of assisting her with," he conceded. "But my interests in her lean more towards my obtaining the gold claim held by Mrs Ellsworth."

"Oh, that again...Lord it's becoming such a dull topic of conversation. I told you the outcome of my conversation with Mrs Ellsworth yesterday."

"I know," Hearst sat down on the edge of the bed. "She will consider selling under certain terms. I must confess, Phoebe that I have little interest in her terms and am significantly more disposed to my own."

"Then I fail to see the problem. Meet with the woman and discuss those terms. She will either agree to sell or she won't."

"Her husband may cause me difficulties given our previous business dealings which is why I had hoped that Mr Swearengen would prove willing to assist. Our meeting last night leads me to conclude that he will be unlikely to do so unless, and until, he is given just cause."

Phoebe yawned, "And did you give him that cause?"

"I made it clear to him to that certain others may find themselves in difficulties were he disinclined to accede to my request. He seems a man less troubled by his own well being and far more concerned by that of those others."

"Which others?"

"Mrs Swearengen, for one."

Phoebe sat bolt upright, "Catherine?!"

"Who else does a husband hold as dear as his wife? The news you gave me of their impending divorce did cause me momentary pause, but it may indeed work in my favour. If their separation is amicable she most likely will prefer to stay in camp."

"I saw the look on her face at his words. I cannot believe it is what she wants."

"If, then, it is fraught with bitterness, she may be more inclined to accept our offer of passage to San Francisco. I don't believe that Mr Swearengen will warm to the prospect of that and it may, therefore, change his view."

"But...but what are your intentions for her if it doesn't?"

Hearst got to his feet, moved over to her side of the bed and touched her chin gently. "I must keep that information private at present, my dear. As loyal as I know you are to me, I'm not entirely convinced of your discretion."

XXXX

"Is he that fucking hooplehead that rode into camp with his brother pretending to have rescued the stage from road agents?" Al asked.

"The very same it would appear," Merrick replied. "Wyatt Earp, I believe his name is. I'm given to understand that he was a marshal previously."

"Yes, we had cause to converse on the matter," Al replied, watching as Catherine smiled and laughed at whatever was being said with the almost practiced ease of a whore looking for a trick.

"Catherine appears to be entertaining him well. No doubt in an attempt to elicit him towards purchasing one of your girls."

"I wouldn't be so sure," Al replied, moving away from the newspaper man. Their relationship had never truly recovered after his printing of Catherine's affliction, but he no longer felt the urge to do him harm. Despite his announcement in the thoroughfare that afternoon he wasn't keen to see news of their situation appearing in the Pioneer. As he approached the pair whose antics had caught his attention, his wife's expression grew serious and she straightened up.

"Mr Earp," he greeted Wyatt, holding out his hand. "Nice to see you frequenting my joint in a social capacity as opposed to answering for your perceived transgressions."

"It's a fine place," Wyatt replied, returning the gesture. "With many appealing features."

A slow smile spread across Catherine's face that made Al half inclined to slap her. "I'm glad you think so. I do hope my wife has done her best to sell all the features to you. In particular, the mere five dollars we charge for pussy."

"Our conversation hasn't really tended that way," Wyatt said, looking back at her.

"Well, perhaps you might consider it whilst I converse with her in private for a moment." Al put his hand on Catherine's arm. "Mrs Swearengen..." Though appearing ill out, she bade Wyatt a brief goodbye and allowed herself to be propelled into the corner of the room furthest away from the bar out of earshot of other patrons.

"Is it your intention to persuade your new friend to fuck one of our whores or do you plan on completing the transaction yourself?" Al asked, his voice low.

"What I chose to do is none of your business," she replied, pulling her arm out of his grip.

"I seem to recall a previous occasion when I found you acting no better than a common whore in a room not so very far from here," he reminded her.

"Now would that have been when you interrupted me with the McSween boy," she folded her arms across her chest, "or are you referring to what transpired between us immediately thereafter? My own feelings on the subject would lean towards my concluding that I have whored myself to you for our entire marriage, short though it has been. You said yourself that it had never been a love match. That fucking me was merely an improvement on fucking others before me. I didn't want to think your words accurate before, but now I tend to subscribe towards them being just that."

He recalled the words, said in an attempt to prevent her from rescuing their relationship when he knew himself it could never be so rescued. He wanted now to tell her that he had been speaking untruths at that point, that hurting her to the point of pushing her away had been his motivation and that the real reason was that which he had originally given, namely that he felt unable to be intimate with her and therefore, wanted to release her for her own good.

"Cathy, words said and actions undertaken do not mean that I have ceased to care for you. Indeed, I told you of the reason for my feelings..."

"You're afraid to give me another child," she interrupted him. "Afraid I may become somehow ill as before. I recall your saying it. How clever of you to come up with a reason that would seem to touch me so. Perhaps we should be thankful for events taking their turn as they did. How terrible it would be to find myself bound irrevocably to a man such as you. Pondering on the matter I have concluded that I have no need to show your offer to my lawyer. Consider it accepted. I'd like my share, in cash, ready for me to uplift tomorrow. I've got plans for it." She looked back across the room where Wyatt was waiting at a vacant table, his eyes on them. "But if you'll excuse me, right now, there are others who do wish the pleasure of my company."

As she made to walk away, he grabbed her arm again, the purpose in doing so he knew not what. To make her see that she was making the wrong decision? To tell her that he loved her? To beg her not to do what he was afraid she was about to do? Quick as a flash, she lashed out and slapped him hard across the face. Immediately, he released her and she stumbled backwards.

"Here," she wrenched off her wedding ring and tossed it on the floor at his feet. "I don't wish to take anything I'm not entitled to."

Al watched as she strode purposefully back across the floor to her new companion and sat down beside him, immediately downing the whiskey he had purchased for her. In that moment, he knew that he had lost her.

"Has she told you?"

He straightened up from having retrieved the ring and turned to see Trixie standing behind him, a worried expression on her face, causing him to wonder if she had heard any of their exchange. "What the fuck are you doing here? Isn't the Jew giving you enough attention?"

"Has she told you?" she repeated, stepping forwards. "About this crazy scheme of hers? Is that why she slapped you, because you told her she couldn't do it?"

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"I'm talking about her taking the money you're going to give her for her share of this place and going to San Francisco with Hearst!"

Al heard her words, but he wasn't quite sure that he comprehended their meaning. Slowly, he turned back around to face her. "What the fuck did you say?"

"You heard me," Trixie said. "She told me that she's planning on leaving the camp with them once his business here is concluded and she ain't never planning on coming back."

Leaving the camp? He had always known it was a possibility, though he had hoped and prayed fervently that it wasn't the decision she would make. Even in that moment, seconds earlier, when she had declared she wanted the gold he had hoped that it was her intention to be truly independent in the camp...but to leave with Hearst, after everything the man had said? Were the Ellsworth claim not in his possession by that time then there was no doubt that he could seek to use taking Catherine away as leverage against him in his scheme. The thought of her, hating him, climbing into a stagecoach with Hearst...bound for who knew what...

"Al..." Trixie stepped forwards. "She's leaving the fucking camp."

He turned back in time to lock gazes with his wife as she moved closer to Wyatt, not missing the triumphant look in her eyes.

"No she fucking ain't."


	10. Chapter 10

Catherine knew not the point of allowing Wyatt to walk her back to Shaughnessy's at the end of the evening's work. If he was under the impression that she intended to lift her skirts and lie on her back, then he was mistaken. Rather shamefully, she would have to admit that her actions towards him in the Gem may have given him that impression, but if she were to be interrogated about it, she would have to have admitted that it was done less to entice Wyatt and more to anger Al.

Their conversation had been enjoyable, different to that which she was used to. He had told her about his previous life in Kansas and, in particular, about the tragic death of his wife, Urilla, and their unborn child. He had shown little emotion at the tale, only the faraway look in his eyes that led her to conclude that he still felt deeply about their passing. It had been on the tip of her tongue to reveal her own loss, but found she couldn't quite articulate it. It felt somehow inappropriate to be discussing it with a man other than Al. So she merely spoke of her illness in general terms and left out the single most devastating factor.

"I've enjoyed your company this evening," Wyatt said when they reached the boarding house.

"As I have yours," Catherine replied, taking her door key from the pocket of her dress. "It was certainly refreshing to converse on subjects other than whores or business or money."

"I'm not so sure your husband enjoyed it as much as we did."

Catherine paused, thinking again of the look on Al's face as she had moved herself closer to Wyatt, having thrown her wedding ring in the dirt at his feet. She really could not have made her feelings any more plain and yet a part of her heart had broken off in doing so. "I don't really give a fuck," she said lightly. "Soon I will no longer have any obligation to him and will be able to do whatever I want." She turned back to face him. "But I thank you for indulging me in riling him."

"And for that indulgence, what recompense can I expect?" Wyatt asked, moving closer to her.

She felt her heart thud in her chest, not with desire, but with fear. Fear that he might insist on claiming what he felt he was owed. Did she play with fire by using him in that way? He was a handsome man and she was sure he would be more than willing and able to satisfy her lonely body, but the one person she still wished to fill that role was Al and he alone.

"My gratitude," she said, stepping back from him and looking him straight in the eye, lest he misinterpret her meaning.

"Well then," he said, stepping back, his expression neutral. "Regretfully, I suppose that shall have to do for now. Goodnight Mrs Swearengen."

"Goodnight Mr Earp."

XXXX

"Why didn't you just tell her?"

Al turned from where he was surveying the evening's business to find Silas standing behind him on the balcony. "Tell who what?"

"Catherine," Silas said. "Why didn't you tell about Hearst's threat?"

"You think the knowledge would have altered her display in here tonight?"

"If she knew he meant her harm, yes. Might have persuaded her to come back here where she can be protected instead of hiding out at Shaughnessey's."

"Seems by all accounts she's managed to find someone else who may be willing and able to protect her," Al said, casting his mind back to the image of Catherine hanging on every word that cocksucker had said. "For all we know, right at this moment, they could be rutting together in that shithole."

Silas stared at him. "You don't believe that."

"Don't I?"

"No, and you wouldn't want it to be true neither."

"On that point," Al conceded, "we can agree."

"So, why didn't you tell her?"

"Given her disposition towards me at present, it seems unlikely that she would accept anything I have to say on the subject as truth." He began to walk towards his office, Silas trailing in his wake. "Trixie informed me that Catherine's plan, once she has relieved me of her share of this place, is to accompany Hearst and his wife to San Francisco."

"You're not fucking serious?"

"I've never been more serious in my life. She sees her horizons expanding with the promise of some small wealth and, naturally, the Hearst woman has filled her head with tales of life back east. So she intends to come here tomorrow to collect on what she is owed, then no doubt sign a paper authenticating our divorce and...head for the hills."

"You can't let her leave with them!" Silas said, as they reached the office door. "Not if Hearst hasn't gotten his hands on the Ellsworth claim. He could do anything to her."

Al turned back to face him. "Oh, she ain't going nowhere with them, Adams, fear not on that subject, whether he holds the claim or not."

"Then, I don't understand. Why not stop her? Why give her the money at all?"

"Because," Al said. "Right now it makes her happy and, strangely, that pleases me."

August 3rd 1876

Catherine arrived promptly at the Gem the following morning, eager to collect her share and begin thinking about the next phase of her life. She was excited and terrified in equal measure and had barely slept the previous evening, wondering what she would do when she had the money in her hands. Depositing it in the Bank of Deadwood until she had decided what her plans were seemed the obvious answer. Hiding it under the bed at Shaunghnessy's was an ill-advised choice and yet, she wondered if, once she had it, she would want to let it out of her sight.

Business had only just begun when she arrived. EB was drinking coffee at the bar and some of the girls were lolling around the room. For a brief moment she paused thinking how, after today, after this moment in fact, she would no longer be employed here, would no longer have any responsibility here and would, in all likelihood, require to respectfully request an audience with Al if she so wished it.

Until then, however, she was content to simply walk straight past the bar and climb the stairs to his office without recourse to anyone. As she did so, she felt Dan's eyes on her back. No doubt he was counting the moments until she was gone. Out of them all, he really was the one she would miss the least.

"Come in!" Al shouted when she knocked on the door and, upon opening it, she realised he must have been expecting her. "All bagged and ready for collection," he said, indicating the loot on his desk.

"Oh..." she said, somewhat taken aback. "I..."

"You made yourself very clear last night," he continued. "I assumed that delay on my part would only anger you further."

"Yes," she said, once she had composed herself. "Yes it would have." She stared at the bags, unable to believe that they contained her share, her life. She was about to take ownership of more money than she had ever dreamed it was possible to have. The world was, as they say, her oyster and yet...yet she couldn't help feeling a twinge of regret.

"Something wrong?" Al asked, questioning her silence.

"No," she said hurriedly. "Nothing at all."

He opened the drawer and lifted out a bottle, filled two glasses and slid one over towards her. "You made plans for that yet?"

"No," she lifted her glass and drained it.

"You got any ideas?"

She could sense that he was fishing for information, desperate to know what she planned to do, where she planned to go and who might accompany her there. Meeting his gaze defiantly, she shook her head. "No, or at least none that I care to share with you."

"It's a fair answer," Al replied, filling her glass again and then lifting his own. "To the future then, whatever it may bring."

Catherine paused and stared down into the honey coloured liquid. "To the future."

XXXX

If she had felt self-conscious leaving the Gem, crossing the thoroughfare towards the bank made her feel even more so, weighed down as she was by the money Al had given her. Though she had been vague with him, and initially unsure herself, the moment she had felt the weight of it in her hands, she knew the bank was the safest place for it. She could only hope that it wasn't busy when she arrived, lest she become the subject of more gossip.

Fortunately, when she pushed the door open, she was greeted with only Alma sat at her desk and Trixie behind the counter, the latter's eyes widening upon seeing her. No-one else was within.

"Good morning Mrs Swearengen," Alma greeted her, appearing to show no surprise at the bounty she held in her arms. "Our first customer of the day."

"Good morning," Catherine said, stepping forward. "I would like to open an account and deposit this money." Dropping the bags on the desk with a thud, she lifted some of the notes out to put into her purse and then cast a sideways glance at Trixie, who merely pursed her lips and looked away. "We discussed it before."

"Of course," Alma said, gesturing for her to sit. "We would be more than happy to have you as a customer here." Catherine waited whilst she busied herself with the appropriate paperwork, feeling Trixie's eyes on her back. "If you would sign here...and I'll give you this receipt..." Alma smiled at her. "Welcome to the Bank of Deadwood, Mrs Swearengen. I promise your money will be quite safe here. I'll have Mr Star enter your deposit into our ledgers upon his return."

"And, would I be able to access the money from out with the camp?"

Alma frowned, "Meaning, if you were to leave and live elsewhere?" Catherine nodded. "Why, yes, the money could be wired to you at another bank at any time."

Catherine got to her feet, "Thank you Mrs Ellsworth. I appreciate it." As she turned and made for the door, she could have sworn she heard Trixie call her a rude name but, choosing to ignore it, she stepped back out into the thoroughfare and turned for the hotel. Then, seemingly thinking better of it, she turned instead for Shaughnessey's.

XXXX

"Did my eyes deceive me, Al?" EB queried. "Was I hallucinating due to an overindulgence of whiskey, or did I see Catherine leave here mere minutes ago weighed down with bags full of money?"

"Whether you did or whether you didn't, is it really any concern of yours?" Al asked.

"What if she were to be robbed in the thoroughfare?!"

"I very much doubt that she's still in the thoroughfare given that she left this office over ten minutes ago but, if you're concerned, feel free to chaperone her until you're satisfied that she's in no danger."

"You mock me," EB said.

"I do." Al poured his friend a drink and then sat back in his chair nursing his own glass.

"She no longer resides within," EB commented after a long moment.

"No, she does not."

"Is this a...permanent arrangement?"

Al paused, wondering whether or not to let the other man into his thoughts, or whether it was better to let everyone in camp believe that Catherine would indeed be leaving for good. "Yes, EB, I'm afraid it is."

"I am most grieved."

"Thank you."

"Though I must confess I always found the match rather puzzling. You being you and...her being her..." he drained his glass. "I admit to being somewhat unsurprised that it has not lasted into the hereinafter."

"Were we all but blessed with your foresight, EB," Al conceded.

"I would wager that neither party will grieve the passing long," he continued, seemingly buoyed by Al's words. "Indeed, I saw for myself her behaviour last night with Mr Earp, both within the Gem and on the road back to Shaughnessey's."

Al paused, "Meaning what?"

"Meaning, I believed her to be acting like no better than a common whore. All over that man she was, as though it was going out of fashion." EB nodded his head. "You've taken a wise course, Al, a very wise course. Let her throw herself amongst the hoopleheads and see which rises to claim her. I would wager that Mr Earp will not be the last."

There had been many an occasion over the years when Al would have liked nothing more than to strike EB Farnum, but he had to confess to himself that, on this occasion, he was closer to acting upon his feelings than he ever had been before. But, it was more important to maintain the facade at present. It wouldn't do any good for George Hearst to learn the ultimate truth of the situation and EB was nothing if not indiscreet.

But had she really fornicated with the troublemaker? Had she taken him to her bed at Shughnessey's, breaking the rule of no gentleman callers she had so vigorously extolled when he himself had tried to call upon her? Rising from his desk and moving out onto the balcony he tried not to think about it, even as he found his gaze wandering the thoroughfare in the direction of the boarding house. As he did so, he caught sight of Catherine walking towards the hotel with Joanie, their arms locked, deep in conversation. There was no scarlet letter pinned to her dress, nothing obvious in her countenance to suggest that she had lain with another...as he watched her progress, however, he saw her glance up, notice him and then look away again without so much as an acknowledgement of his presence, as though they were strangers to one another instead of wed.

"You may be right, EB," Al said, turning and stepping back inside the room. "You may be right."

XXXX

"I told Trixie I was going to leave. I was so sure of my decision..."

"I think you should go if it's what you want," Joanie said, as she and Catherine ambled slowly along the thoroughfare, the latter having come across her as she was leaving her room for the day. "There's a whole wide world outside of Deadwood and if you got money now..."

"Money don't always fix everything," Catherine said, glancing up at the Gem balcony as she spoke. Seeing Al standing, watching her, she quickly lowered her gaze again. "Sometimes things are too broken to be mended."

"No, but money helps."

"Come with me," Catherine said, taking her friend's arm and turning to face her. "Come with me, Joanie and we can start a new life together far away from here. Far away from Al and Cy..."

"I can't," Joanie shook her head. "I ain't got what you got."

"We can share! Joanie, you've been my one true friend, my confidante. Think what we could do together!" She paused as the other woman looked away. "Please don't tell me you can't free yourself from Tolliver's shackles."

"It ain't about him," Joanie replied. "It's...it's just that I don't want to leave this place, that's all. I'm tired of roaming the country looking for somewhere to call home. I want to call this place home, Catherine. Good or bad, it's my home now. Besides, I got my own prospects."

Catherine sighed, "I suppose the lure of Mr Utter is too great."

"It ain't..."

"I know. I understand. I'll miss you is all. I'm scared about leaving here, starting again without a man to guide me. First Daddy, then Al..."

"You need no man," Joanie said, taking Catherine by the shoulders. "You're brave and strong and you can cope on your own. Besides, your new friends will see you right to start off with surely."

Catherine glanced up at Phoebe's window. "I suppose. Speaking of Mrs Hearst, I suppose I should attend to her. I thank you for your counsel Joanie. I'll miss it when I'm gone."

"You can always visit," Joanie reassured her. "You'll be wanting to come and see your Daddy's grave from time to time won't you?"

"Yes, of course," Catherine said, though she couldn't help but feel in her heart that once she left Deadwood, she would never look back.

XXXX

"Oh my Lord, I'm so pleased!" Phoebe exclaimed when Catherine told her of her decision. "I know it's the right thing for you to do, my dear, especially as you have some means of your own. You will adore San Francisco, I have no doubt! Have you told Mr Swearengen yet of your plans?"

"No," Catherine confessed, "not yet."

"Don't you think you should?"

"Of course. It's just..."

"You think he won't approve? You think he will be angered by your decision?"

That was the last thing Catherine knew Al would feel, anger. No doubt he would be more than happy for her to go as far away as possible. The speed with which he had arranged her funds was proof of that if nothing else. "I suppose I think he may be surprised."

"No doubt." Phoebe sidled closer to her on the chaise longue. "Does your husband speak to you of the matters he has discussed with George?"

"No," Catherine replied honestly. "Nor is he likely too in our present state."

"No..." Phoebe mused. "It's just that...well, I hear things you know and...well, I do believe it's my husband's intention to purchase Mrs Ellsworth's claim."

"Oh?" she feigned surprise, though the other woman's revelation was anything but.

"Yes, but I don't think she's inclined to sell. I believe that when our husbands' met the other evening, it was to discuss whether or not Mr Swearengen could encourage Mrs Ellsworth to consider George's terms more...favourably."

"I'm surprised. Al has very little to do with her."

"I think George sees your husband as a man of influence in the camp." Phoebe said, taking Catherine's hand in her own. "If you retain any such influence over him, perhaps you could persuade him to assist."

"To what end?" Catherine asked, frowning.

"To a happy end," Phoebe replied, patting her hand. "A happy end for us all."

XXXX

Al knew she would come to him that night. Trixie had told him of her visit to the bank that morning to deposit the funds thereby leaving only one task unfulfilled; the signing of the divorce decree. No doubt she would wish her lawyer to draft it and he had no difficulty with that. Let her continue to believe that the plans she was making would come to fruition if it brought her comfort.

The Gem was crowded, workers at the diggings having been recently paid and eager to spend what money they had on drink, women and dope. Someone had struck up a tune on the piano and the sound of singing and raucous laughter made it almost impossible to hear anything else. As though he was attuned to her, however, Al could tell the moment Catherine entered the saloon. He could almost count in his head the seconds it would take her to cross the floor, climb the stairs and arrive at his office door. Mere moments after the thought entered his head, there came an expected knock and, without waiting for permission to enter, Catherine pushed it open.

"Twice in one day," he commented upon seeing her. "I am indeed blessed." As she stepped inside and walked over towards the desk, he could see that she was trembling slightly, no doubt afraid of the reaction her revelation would bring.

"I wanted to speak with you," she said, and he heard the shake in her voice. "Now that you've given me my share of the Gem, I suppose the final formality is to sign the paper for our divorce."

"I suppose it is."

"I've arranged to meet Mr Finch tomorrow and he advised that he can have a document drafted speedily..." she paused and took a breath. "Perhaps we could have it signed here tomorrow, in his presence?"

"So soon?" Al asked. "Is there some need for expediency?" He knew all too well what the need was, but he found himself disinclined to make things easier for her.

"Well I...I wanted to tell you..."

"Tell me what?"

"I've...I've decided to leave the camp." She paused, clearly waiting for a reaction that he deliberately didn't provide. "Mrs Hearst has suggested that I accompany her and her husband on their return to San Francisco next week. Mr Hearst's business in camp is almost concluded and she is anxious to see her son...I'm told, there are many opportunities there for a woman of some means."

"As indeed you now are."

"Yes." She tossed her head slightly. "I deposited the money you gave me in the bank this morning and Mrs Ellsworth has advised that the money can be wired to California. I fancy perhaps...perhaps I might go into some form of business there."

"Such as?"

"Retail, perhaps. Womens' dresses and the like." She looked at him squarely, daring him to disagree with her.

"Sounds a fine proposition."

"Yes." Catherine paused, clearly unsure where to take the conversation next. She had obviously come prepared to fight and his lack of animation had obviously unsettled her. "Well..." she took a step back.

"Your display in here last night left little to the imagination," he said suddenly, causing Catherine's eyes to widen. He hadn't intended bringing it up, but it was niggling him, had niggled him ever since EB's comments earlier that day. "Others in camp suggest it continued when you decided to return to Shaughnessey's."

"I don't..."

"Did you fuck him?" Her mouth dropped open, her expression one of surprised indignation. "That hooplehead Earp," he added for clarity. "Did you fuck him?"

To his relief, her eyes screamed that she hadn't, but she was clearly too piqued with his lack of reaction to give him the verbal answer she knew he would want. Instead, she drew herself up and gave him a supercilious smile. "Yes Al, I did. And I didn't even charge him. And a mighty good fuck it was at that too!" With that, she turned and stormed out, slamming the door hard behind her.


	11. Chapter 11

August 6th 1876

She felt older than twenty-two. When she looked at herself in the mirror all she could see were the lines of age that had seemingly appeared on her face. So much had happened in such a short space of time. She had spent her twenty-first birthday on the road to Deadwood with Al and her father, unaware of what would befall them all. Now, twelve short months later, so much had changed. She had changed. Irrevocably.

When she had spoken with Phoebe the previous day, the other woman's excitement about their impending departure from camp had been overwhelming. She talked longingly of being back home in San Francisco and of the many things that Catherine would see once there. The only slight mar in her pleasure was the fact that something was irritating her husband, though she hadn't known what and didn't wish to ask.

Arrangements had been made for Catherine to stay with the Hearsts' for a period of time until she could establish herself in her own lodgings and her new friend already had a list of places they had to visit and things they had to achieve in their first few days there.

"A new wardrobe is key," Phoebe had said, eying Catherine's outfit somewhat distastefully. "A new face on the social scene must be sure to follow the fashions."

Catherine had merely nodded and said little, wondering not for the first time if she was making a terrible mistake. Not in leaving the camp, for she knew she could not stay were she not with Al, but more on whether San Francisco was really the right place for her. Whether she would fit in. Whether she could survive on her own.

She wondered if her husband would remember her birthday and assumed not. It seemed so unlikely and so unlike him even if things hadn't deteriorated to the point that they had. His delay over agreeing to sign their final divorce paper irritated her no end. Being as sure as he was that ending their marriage was the only way forwards, he seemed to be reluctant to make it official and she couldn't help but feel as though she was suspended in time, unable to move in any direction until such time as the legalities were completed. She tried hard to think back on his attitude towards her prior to their union, to how she had disliked him and wished herself free from him, in the vain hope of stopping the pain that coursed through her every time she saw the look in his eyes when he had told her they had to separate. The attempt never succeeded.

Sighing, she turned back from the mirror and finished dressing for the day. No longer required at the Gem, the hours seemed to stretch before her, though she was due to meet Phoebe and Martha for a late lunch at the hotel. It felt odd having no real purpose and not something she particularly liked. Despite disliking running the whores, it had commanded her attention. She had been needed. Now, it appeared that no-one really needed her. Perhaps they never had.

Electing to take the air, she stepped out of her room at the same time as Wyatt emerged from his own and he touched his hat in greeting upon seeing her.

"Good morning Catherine."

"Mr Earp."

He smiled at her, "Ain't it about time you called me Wyatt? Mr Earp reminds me of my father."

"I suppose it couldn't hurt," she smiled in response. "Good morning Wyatt."

"That's better. I ain't seen much of you these last few days."

"No, I've been busy." It was a lie, but it seemed the safest route to take.

"So I hear," he fell into step beside her. "Fact is, you never really struck me as the type to befriend a woman of Mrs Hearst's ilk."

"Meaning what?"

"Meaning as is I can't see the two of you alike."

She stopped and turned to face him, "You think me too lowly for her attentions, her time, her company?"

"No, of course not. No, that ain't my meaning at all," he replied hurriedly. "What I meant was…"

"Good day, Mr Earp," she said before he could complete his sentence and turned away from him back towards her room, quietly seething inside. He had shown her attention, flattered her, desired her and yet, all along he felt her to be an inferior being to other women. How could she had been so blind, so naïve, so…

She sighed, remembering the expression on Al's face when he had asked if she had fucked Wyatt. The mere posing of the question had made her heart sink that he should think so little of her, yet she had fancied that she had seen something in his eyes begging her to tell him that nothing had transpired between them. Given his attitude towards her, however, it seemed a fanciful notion and therefore she had taken pleasure in telling him the lie that she had lain with Wyatt, pleasure that had lasted mere seconds before crushing despair had come over her and she had fled the office without wishing to take the conversation any further. Now it seemed as though, even if she had considered it, Wyatt's opinion of her was not worth having in any event.

Sometimes, despite all that had transpired in the last twelve months, she had to remind herself that he, Al, was the only man she had properly given herself to. The one who had taken her maidenhood shortly before they had left Chicago was someone she paid little heed to in her memories. It was Al who had awakened her, he who had released passion within her the likes of which she couldn't imagine experiencing with another. If she were not his wife, what was she?

She wasn't sure who she was anymore.

XXXX

"Mr Swearengen!" Alma's countenance lit up in surprised curiosity. "How unusual to find you frequenting my establishment."

"No doubt as unusual as your frequenting mine would be," Al replied, closing the door of the bank behind him and walking across the floor towards her desk. He had risen that morning questioning what his course of action should be. His previous resoluteness in taking no part in Hearst's quest found cause to falter in the dead of night and, finding few if any options available to him, had elected to tread the path to the bank. "I trust business is well?"

"Very well, thank you for asking. The bank grows every day with new custom."

"I'm pleased to hear that your endeavours bear fruit." He glanced over at Trixie who stood behind the counter eying him suspiciously. "I had hoped to discuss a matter of some delicacy with you."

"Of course," Alma gestured to the empty chair.

"In private." Al glanced over at Trixie again. "This matter ain't for the ears of the camp."

Alma followed his gaze and, seeming to take his meaning, smiled at the other woman. "Trixie, perhaps you could give us a moment to speak alone?"

Trixie's gaze fluttered between them and Al could tell that she was desperate to be privy to what he had to say. Sense won out however and, with poor grace, she stormed out from behind the counter and left the bank, slamming the door behind her as she did so.

"Well now," Alma said, "I believe us to be completely alone."

Al sat down in the chair and surveyed her carefully. They had had little recourse for conversation since her arrival in the camp and though he believed her to be inherently honest, he couldn't help but feel slightly apprehensive about how much information to impart to her or the manner in which he should impart it. "I understand you've made Mrs Hearst's acquaintance of late."

"Yes, we've taken tea together on two occasions. She's a very pleasant woman."

"Bound in matrimony to a very unpleasant man."

Alma frowned, "I've not had the pleasure of speaking with Mr Hearst personally…"

"Pleasure ain't how I'd describe it. A man lacking scruples and decency can hardly be a model for pleasurable conversation."

"As opposed to you?"

"Indeed." He smiled at the insinuation. "On a fine day like today I'm sure you can smell the money being made at that holding of yours."

"What is it that you wish to discuss, specifically?"

He held her gaze, admiring of her directness and keen to impart his own. "My understanding of Hearst's presence in the camp is that he intends to add your holding to his own."

Alma said nothing for a long moment. "To what do you owe this…understanding?"

"To him telling me the very words himself in hope that I might assist in the persuasion."

"How very presumptuous of him. And how cunning for the two of you to be discussing the matter between you without recourse to me."

"You have no wish to sell?"

She lifted her chin. "None."

"Is that to be your final word on the matter?"

"Well…one can never say final, can one? But I have yet to be presented with any such proposal that would induce me…"

"What sort of proposal would that require to be?"

Alma looked at him squarely, irritation showing in her expression at his continued inquiry and something else. Something he might have attributed to prior knowledge. As through his overtures to her were not the first she had received with regards to Hearst's wish to purchase her holding, despite her outward appearance to the contrary. "A fair and decent one. I have not only myself to consider, but also my daughter."

"Of course…" Al sat back in the chair. "You may know that Mrs Hearst has made a friend of my wife."

"Yes, I've seen them together on several occasions."

"What you may not know is that she intends leaving the camp and accompanying Mr and Mrs Hearst to San Francisco when their business here is concluded."

"No…I was not aware of that. I suppose travel can only be an experience worth undertaking, though I will be sorry to see Mrs Swearengen go. I've always found her to be…"

"Oh, she ain't going anywhere," he interrupted her. "Not with him."

"I see…" Alma regarded him carefully, clearly curious as to his meaning. "I wonder…what purpose there is in you confiding this in me?"

He sat forwards again, "Sell."

"But I have just told you..."

"I know what you told me and now I'm telling you. For your own good, the good of the camp and the good of my wife, sell, or the consequences will not be mine to control."

She got to her feet, her mouth pinched. "I believe our interview has concluded."

"You've made a nice living for yourself here," he observed, rising. "You have standing in the camp, you're well respected…and you have a little one to consider. She's already lost one mother…"

"Are you threatening me?"

"I don't threaten, Mrs Ellsworth, I foretell. George Hearst is a dangerous man, predisposed to taking what he wants by any means necessary and just as I am bound to protect my own…so are you. Meet with the man, discuss your terms and sell. Or I cannot guarantee your continued safety in this camp. Yours or your child's." Before she could respond, he turned quickly and left, closing the door softly behind him, in no doubt of the turmoil in which he had just left her. Strangely the threat, mild as it may have appeared, had brought him no pleasure.

Stepping back into the thoroughfare, he began traversing back towards the Gem, starting suddenly when Trixie fell into step beside him.

"What the fuck is going on?" she asked.

"What the fuck does it have to do with you?"

"Catherine is still ensconced at Shaughnessy's and she's due to leave the camp in only a few days!"

"The purpose of telling me information of which I am already aware being…?"

"Why the fuck haven't you stopped her?"

He turned to face her. "Forgive me if I don't take you into my counsel over every minute decision. I had no idea you felt yourself to be so entitled."

"Al…you don't want her to leave, I know you don't. But there is something else going on here that I don't understand."

"And it's best you don't," he replied, "best for all of us."

XXXX

"Good Lord why didn't you say that it was your birthday?!" Phoebe declared later that afternoon when the subject came up in conversation. "Many happy returns my dear and how fortuitous that your new life is about to start mere days from now. I can't think of a more appropriate beginning to a new year."

Catherine glanced up from her food and smiled, "Thank you."

"If we had known we would have surely procured you a gift," Phoebe continued. "Martha, I'm sure you must feel as remiss as I do."

Martha nodded, "Of course."

"I'm not in need of gifts," Catherine said. "Your pleasant company is more than I could have asked for on such a day."

"Well we shall not dispute that," Phoebe raised her glass. "To many more happy years. I am glad that I will, hopefully, be able to spend them with you. All we must do now is help Martha persuade Sheriff Bullock that a life in San Francisco is eminently preferable to a life in Deadwood and then we three shall all be together."

Catherine joined in the toast though she felt the liquid almost catch in her throat. She felt none of the jubilation that Phoebe expected. Indeed, she had never felt more despairing. As the day had worn on, she had found herself constantly near to tears, unsure if it was because of the occasion in particular or just simple uncertainty. She knew that were she to ask Phoebe if she felt she was making the right decision in going to San Francisco her friend would exclaim that of course she was. If she were to ask Al, she couldn't help but fear that he would provide something akin to the same reply when what she really wanted to hear, needed to hear, was him telling her not to go.

She kept as pleasant a countenance as she could throughout the remainder of the meal and, once finished, excused herself from the other ladies' company and found herself crossing the thoroughfare to the Gem. She hadn't ventured inside for days, not since Al had provided her with her share, thus effectively casting her out. Now that she was no longer part of the saloon, it seemed frowned upon for her to enter at all. But respectability was something she had never engendered in camp and something drew her there, so she stepped through the door and slowly made her way over to the bar.

"What are you doing here?" Johnny asked as she approached. "You looking for business?" He laughed at his own joke then stopped when he saw that she didn't join in his mirth.

"Is Al here?"

"Upstairs in the office. Do you want me to…?"

She didn't wait for the rest of his remark, choosing to head for the stairs and climb them slowly. As she made her way across the balcony, she could hear voices coming from the office, Al's and Dan's, and she paused before knocking.

"Come in!" her husband called and, when she swung the door open, she saw that he seemed unsurprised by her appearance. "Well, well, well, look who it is. Not sojourning with the Hearst woman this afternoon?"

"I've just come from her and Mrs Bullock," she replied, wondering why she felt the need to explain herself. "I wanted to speak with you, if I may."

"Of course," he replied, gesturing to Dan to leave, the other man shooting her a disdainful look as he passed. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"

Catherine stood looking at him for a long moment, unsure what to say or how to say it. "You haven't made arrangements for us to sign the document," she decided upon. "The one my lawyer has prepared to solidify the end of our union."

"In that I have been remiss," he got up and came around the desk. "Given your impending departure from the camp, you feel it is necessary to bring things to a swift conclusion?"

"I would have thought that to be your wish too," she replied, somewhat surprised at his words. "After all, you initiated matters."

"I did, but it is you who have brought them to a head. You, who left the Gem. You, who wished your share. You, who instructed legal representation on the matter."

"You, who gave me little choice." She paused as his eyes flickered across her face, wondering how far she should push him, how much she should demand of him and whether there was any point in attempting to revisit decisions already made. "Al…"

"Tomorrow," he interrupted her. "Ten o'clock. Here. I'll have Bullock as witness."

She felt her insides crumble a little more and, fighting hard to maintain composure, she straightened her shoulders. "Ten o'clock will be fine. I will be here."

"Fine."

"Fine."

"Cathy?"

"Yes?" She paused and turned back from the door.

"Felicitations on your joyous day of birth."

Her eyes grew misty and she swallowed hard against a lump rising in her throat. That he could have said the words so tenderly, as though they meant something when she knew they meant nothing, hurt more than she could ever have given voice to. A slight nod was all she could manage before throwing open the door and rushing back along the corridor, down the stairs and out into the early evening air.

Once there, she let herself cry, let the tears pour down her cheeks and the sobs heave her frame, caring not who might see or what conclusion they might draw. Leaving was her only chance at ever being able to live again. A few more days. A few more days and she would be free. She could put Deadwood, her father, her child and Al far, far behind her.


	12. Chapter 12

Al had hoped that Mrs Ellsworth might have had a change of heart after their conversation, that she might have sought counsel from her husband over his proposition and ultimately seen the wisdom in it. He had been plain with her without being detailed. What good would that have done except to scare her beyond reason? She was not a stupid woman. She had understood his meaning and, as a mother, she would surely be foolhardy to dismiss what he had said. But as the hours ticked by, he had to accept that the woman had made her position clear. There would be no agreement with Hearst, no sale of her holding, no saving of Catherine from his malevolent intentions.

"Fucking Mrs Ellsworth," he grumbled to himself, downing the latest in a long line of whisky shots, finding cold comfort in the liquor.

"Everything ok boss?" Dan asked nervously.

"No, it fucking ain't. He who thinks he can come into camp riding like the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse bringing disaster and destruction in his wake!"

"Who we talking about?"

"Hearst," Al turned to him. "Fucking Hearst, who else? He thinks he can threaten me, threaten her and not answer for it? He thinks us weak, incapable…" he downed another shot. "She ain't leaving this camp, Dan. Over my dead body is she leaving this camp away from my protection."

"Uh…who we talking about now?"

"Who the fuck do you think, Dan?! Catherine. Catherine Swearengen. My wife. Thinks herself above her station now. Thinks she's going to climb atop a stagecoach with Hearst and his beloved and travel across country to San Francisco. Thinks herself too good for the camp now. Thinks herself too good for all of us."

Dan paused, "Catherine's leaving the camp? I thought she was just staying at Shaughnessy's for a while is all."

"I apologise…" Al replied, drunkenly placing a hand on his subordinate's arm. "I apologise for not bringing you into my confidences, Dan. You, who have been most loyal. Catherine…is all set to leave the camp with Hearst in but a few days time after our union has been brought to an end. She goes with him…he who has threatened her very safety."

"You lost me, boss…I…"

"Swearengen!"

Dan's words were drowned out by a shout from the entrance way of the Gem, causing the usual rabble from within to momentarily lower, then resume at its usual decibel level as Ellsworth crossed the floor towards them, his expression thunderous.

"Not now Ellsworth," Dan said, stepping between them. "Me and Al's conversing."

"I don't give a shit what you're doing," Ellsworth replied, pushing the other man out of the way and glaring at the obvious focus of his rage. "I need to have words with you."

"So…" Al looked at him. "She spoke to you of our conversation."

"Yes, she fucking did and I'm here to tell you that if you ever, ever threaten my wife again, I will gut you myself!" Ellsworth stepped closer to him. "I do not appreciate you going to her in that regard."

"At all, or without recourse to you?"

"Both! I will not have my wife drawn into whatever machinations you have with Hearst. I will not have it!"

"Powerful words from a man wed to a woman in name only," Al replied. "Especially given she holds the purse strings."

Ellsworth glowered, "And just what the fuck is your meaning?"

"You fucked her yet? Do you even share a bedchamber much less a bed? If the answer be no on all counts and I wager it is, you have no business chiding me for actions undertaken in protection of my wife, a woman who can rightly bear the title."

"Your wife who currently resides in a shithole. Your wife who runs whores, flatters other men and walks out with them, all whilst under your name."

Any humour Al might have derived from the exchange diminished quickly on the other man's words and he felt a hard knot of anger start to form in his belly though unsure of its direction. "The knowledge of her running whores is hardly noteworthy. The other behaviour of which you speak is neither true nor warrants repetition, lest you wish to lie at my feet rather than remain where you stand." He reached behind where his knife was secreted in his waistband and felt the solidity of the handle.

Ellsworth's eyes danced over his face and Al could see the conflict therein. He was, essentially, a good man, one who had married the widow out of care and concern rather than for any pecuniary gain. In that, Al felt a kinship. But he also knew that no comparison could be made between the feelings Mrs Ellsworth bore towards her husband and those he knew Catherine possessed.

"I've said my words and trust you've taken my meaning," Ellsworth said, before turning on his heel, pushing past other patrons and disappearing back into the dim light of evening.

"What the fuck was that about?" Dan asked.

"Never you mind," Al said, draining the last of his glass and thumping it down onto the bar before making his own way to the door.

"Where are you going?" Dan called after him. "You ain't thinking of following him. Al, I don't right think you should be engaging him in combat!"

"I ain't planning anything of the sort. I'm going to pay a call."

"But…"

He turned away before he could hear any more of the other man's protestations and hurried quickly out of the Gem, finding himself traversing the pathway to Shaughnessy's. His head buzzed and he wasn't sure how much liquor he had consumed, but the events of the day, not least of all Ellsworth's confrontation, and the hastening date of Catherine's departure had forced him to the decision that he needed to impart knowledge to her. Needed her to know the true face of her new friends. Needed to make her see the foolhardiness of her decision.

The proprietor was nowhere to be seen, not that he would have had cause to care were he within sight. He banged loudly on her door, barely giving her a chance to reach it before bellowing her name. "Catherine! Open the fucking door!" Seconds later, it opened but a crack, and he pushed it wide before she could consider refusing him entry. "You ain't leaving this fucking camp," he growled.

"What…?"

"I mean it, Cathy, you ain't leaving!" He pushed past her into the room, forcing her to close the door and turn to face him. "You're my wife as we now stand and you ain't leaving."

She looked at him for a long moment and he could see confusion mingled with hope in her expression, one which made him despise himself even more than he already did. "What are you saying?"

"What am I saying? Are you a fucking simpleton? I said you ain't leaving this camp! Not with him, not with anyone." He glanced around, feeling as though further courage was required, not only for the conversation to be had but to prevent his eyes from roaming too freely over her, clad as she was merely in her chemise. "Do you, perchance, have any liquor in this fine establishment?"

"Seems to me like you've already had enough fucking liquor," she observed. "I confess to having no clue as to what would make you issue such a fucking order to me…but I am bound to leave the camp next week with Mr and Mrs Hearst and I…"

"How many times do I have to say it?" he advanced on her. "You ain't leaving."

"Until this moment you have shown no concern for my plans! We are to sign the paper tomorrow, remember? Ten o'clock. I will no longer be your wife and you will have no say over what I can and cannot do…" she gasped as he roughly took hold of her shoulders.

She felt good under his touch, her skin warm and soft. He could feel the blood pounding in his head, the liquor coursing through him, giving him a confidence that sobriety couldn't. He pulled her close, feeling his prick harden against her, desperate for the release that he knew her body would give him. Desperate to give understanding to the feelings that made he and Ellsworth so very different. But he also needed her to understand the precariousness of her situation and he knew he couldn't impart such knowledge to her whilst they were connected. Releasing her, he gently pushed her away.

"What do you want?" she asked, her voice trembling slightly. "Why have you come to me at this fucking hour if not to…"

"Hearst wishes to incorporate the gold claim held by Mrs Ellsworth into his holdings. That's why he's in the camp."

"We had already assumed as much when he arrived here. This is not new information."

"Perhaps not, but this should be. Mrs Hearst's presence in camp was not designed to offer her the opportunity to spend time with her husband but rather to assist him in his quest. Hearst believed that I would be of assistance to him in obtaining the Ellsworth claim. He commissioned you as companion to his wife in order to bring about a situation whereby I would have no option but to assist him."

She frowned, "I don't understand…"

"When I met with Hearst several nights ago, he attempted to solicit my help in persuading Mrs Ellsworth to sell her claim by any means possible. I knew what he meant, and it wasn't through legal negotiation. I refused to take part in his plan and, as a consequence…he threatened the one thing I hold dear."

She said nothing.

"You need me to give voice to it?"

Again, she remained silent.

"You."

"Al…" she took a step towards him, but he moved away, aware nothing else could be contemplated until he had said what was required.

"I approached Mrs Ellsworth to ascertain how she would be disposed towards selling her claim. I explained to her in as decent a way as I could the true nature of the man, but she refuses to entertain the suggestion. Refuses to assist, then sends her husband to chide me for having the gall to even enquire. My fear now is that, faced with any refusal, Hearst will come at her and, consequently, at you as collateral for my lack of success."

She remained silent for a long moment. "I don't believe it."

"You believe me to be lying or you simply don't want to believe it?" he queried.

"I don't...I don't want to believe it," she clarified. "I thought Phoebe to be my friend. I thought her to genuinely want my company..."

"It may be, perchance, that she doesn't know of her husband's intentions. In that, she may indeed be a friend to you."

"How could she not know? She's his wife."

"Husbands can, and do, keep secrets from their spouses."

She met his gaze again. "These threats…what do they entail?"

"To that I have no answer. But recognising in the man what I do, I would venture that whatever course of action he may choose to take, it would not be pretty."

She sank down on the edge of the bed. "Why are you telling me this? What am I to do armed with this...this knowledge?"

"Nothing."

"Nothing? But you just said…"

"Continue with your intended plans," he said. "Give no indication that you're aware of what Hearst's true purpose is. Ensure that both he and his wife maintain the belief that you will leave camp with them in the coming days."

"To what fucking end?" she demanded.

"To the end of my deciding how best to come at him by pre-emption."

"Well while you decide, Al, I have more of an intention of fucking going at him myself! To think that he would use me in such a way as to…"

"You'll do nothing of the fucking kind!" he warned her. "Advising him that you know there's more than kind patronage to his offer only puts you in more danger now. The wisest course of action is to maintain the pretence that nothing has changed."

"But Hearst believes us to be separating," she reminded him. "What benefit does he think he'll derive from my travelling with him? For all he knows, you despise me enough now to have little regard for what he might choose to do to me, whether I leave the camp or not."

He met her gaze again and felt his body respond once more. "He looked in my eyes when he made his threat to your life and saw the truth there, enough to satisfy him that I simply would not let it pass unchallenged."

She got to her feet. "What is the truth?"

"I have tried to explain to you why I believe a parting of the ways is for the best. But a man's practical actions often belie his true feelings. I could never, and would never, allow anyone, Hearst or otherwise, to harm you and, to that end, I ask you now…not to leave the camp."

For a moment, she said nothing and simply stood, trembling slightly in front of him, igniting every protective instinct within him. He knew were it not for his own restraint, he would have taken her in his arms long ago.

"How can I stay?" she replied finally, her voice shaking. "How can I stay and…and be nothing to you?"

"That will be for you to overcome," he said with as much conviction as he could. "I would always be watchful of you and there are others in camp who I'm sure will be eager to protect you, care for you…"

"Mr Earp did not touch me beyond a chaste kiss on the cheek," she interrupted, as though guaranteed to alter his decision. "Nothing transpired between us, of that you have my solemn vow."

He had always known it, but hearing her speak the words brought him comfort. "That ain't what you said earlier."

"I know. I…I wanted to hurt you, fool though I was for thinking my words would inflict any wound."

"You've been around the whores too long, for your actions in the Gem that night certainly appeared practiced."

"I'm still your wife. Many believe my morals to be in the gutter as it is, but I still have enough honour not to lie with a man while I wear another's ring. Even if it ain't visible to the eye." She paused. "And I could never lie with any other man when I still feel as I do for you…"

He felt his control slipping and knew that it was essential they returned to the matter at hand. "I fear we're straying from the purpose of my coming to you…"

"No!" she exclaimed. "No, you can't tell me this, tell me that I'm in danger, demand that I stay in camp but still refuse to change your fucking course. What fucking life am I to have here alone with nothing? What life here would be better than that which I could have in San Francisco?"

"You would have no life in San Francisco," he replied, angry at her seeming lack of understanding. "That is the entire fucking point! If he does not achieve what he desires, Hearst will hurt you, Hearst will kill you…"

"Then perhaps that is preferable to what you suggest," she said, her eyes filling with tears. "Perhaps aligning myself with Phoebe will save me. Perhaps then he won't touch me. Perhaps I may live a life somewhere else where I am not constantly fucking reminded of what I have endured here. Perhaps I can be free of this...this misery, even if that means in death!"

He stared at her, knowing that she doubted her own words. "Cathy…"

"If you have nothing else to offer me, please leave." She moved to the door and opened it. "I've already broken the rules by granting you entry and if Shaughnessy asks me to leave here then I have no other fucking place to go."

"I need your fucking assurance that you will remain in the camp."

"Well you're not going to fucking get it!" she snapped. "My remaining here, uncoupled from you, unwanted…"

"You think me such the prize?" he moved towards her again, realisation dawning that if he were to force her hand it would have to be at the expense of the one thing he had withheld from her. "Your lack knowledge, truth, insight. That night, months back, when you were set upon in the alleyway outside the Bella Union."

"What of it?"

"You think it to be random, some hooplehead looking to take advantage of a lone woman walking at night when, the truth of the matter is…" he took a breath. "You were set upon at my command." He turned away, not wanting to see her expression as the sorry tale unfolded. "I did not care for you then as I do now. You declined to sell me your fucking share in the Gem and you had already refused my proposal of marriage. At that time, the only recourse I believed I had towards obtaining what I desired, was to frighten you into one or the other."

As he spoke the words, a painful realisation struck him. "Perhaps Mr Hearst and I are not so different after all." He paused. "It was not my wish for you to be harmed as you were, and time and knowledge have not weighed easily on my conscience. But it is the truth. I was the orchestrator, the mastermind behind it. It was my plan and I had it executed. I've confessed this to you before, when you lay in your fucking sickbed, ravaged by cholera. At the time, I believed you near death and wished to unburden myself. When you lived, I was grateful that you had no memory of the tale and I had hoped the need to speak of it again would never arise. Now I see it was inevitable that you learned the truth."

He turned back around to face her. "I regret the actions taken and the consequences thereof more than you can know."

Tears streamed down her face and he felt torn between comforting her and continuing to push her towards a final acceptance of the man he truly was, the man he would always be. She shook her head as though trying to disavow the truth he had imparted. "You couldn't have…"

"This is who I am, Catherine. You knew before we wed and you know it still, though you choose to ignore it. You need not be bound to me and you will be all the more fortunate for being released from our obligation."

"Please leave."

"Despite all I have revealed, I still must have your fucking assurance that you will remain in the camp," he pressed.

"Get out."

"Cathy…"

"Get out of my fucking room!" she shouted, advancing towards him, her arms flailing as she struck him over and over and over again. "Get out! Get out!"

Predisposed as he was to self-protection, Al found himself poised to strike her back, to grab her by the throat, pin her against the wall, make her understand that no-one, no-one attacked him without consequence, regardless of who they were or what they meant to him. But something deep inside stopped him and he allowed her to continue raining blows down upon him, pushing him towards the door.

"I hate you! I hate you, you fucking cocksucker! I hate you!" She pushed him across the threshold. "To think of all I have given you…to think I would have borne your child and been glad of it…to think of my feelings…" She clasped her arms around herself as though in pain. "To think I have loved you when you have never loved me. When you have hated me, despised me...You will have no assurance from me, none! I will leave this camp and be satisfied never to lay eyes upon it or you ever again!"

With that, she slammed the door in his face.


	13. Chapter 13

August 7th 1876

"George, I am perturbed," Phoebe pouted as she dressed herself for the day.

"About what, my dear?"

"About the fact that we have to wait until next week to leave the camp. Why can't we go now, today? Tomorrow even? Surely your business here has concluded by now. I grow bored of this heat and my excitement at introducing our new friend to the sights and sounds of the city is quite overtaking any desire I might have to remain in these hills."

"I appreciate your frustration," Hearst replied, good-naturedly. "But there is still one matter that requires my attention before we depart."

"The Ellsworth claim."

"Indeed."

"Lord, I do wish you would just forget that endeavour," she rose from the stool by the mirror and turned to face him. "You have received no advances from Mrs Ellsworth, despite my conversing with her on the subject and I can only gather that Mr Swearengen has not proved the useful tool you anticipated him to be. Why not simply allow the woman to retain her claim and let us move on?"

"Because I want that claim, Phoebe, and I will have it by whatever means necessary," he replied tightly. "I have not attained the status and success I have today by sitting idly by."

"But what do you intend to do about it?" she persisted. "I see no other avenues of opportunity open to you if she refuses to discuss terms."

"There are always avenues open to me, my dear." He kissed her lightly on the cheek. "Now, what plans have you for today?"

"I shall be meeting with Catherine later as usual, though opportunities for entertainment are few. Perhaps we could go riding. I observed there to be a blacksmith in town."

"I would suggest that to be unwise. Indians roam these territories freely."

"And what do you consider might befall us? A beheading?" Phoebe laughed. "George, I am bored. There must be something that Catherine and I could do together to occupy our time."

"Why not invite Mrs Ellsworth to join you?" he suggested. "A combined show of the merits of relinquishing her claim to me might be just the incentive that she requires."

Phoebe rolled her eyes. "I hardly think so."

"Think on it, my dear," he said, putting on his hat. "To leave here with the claim intact would be far preferable to leaving here without it, for all concerned."

XXXX

The morning brought Catherine no comfort. She had barely slept the previous night, tossing and turning in her bed with Al's revelations. Hearst wished her harm, Phoebe might wish her harm and Al…Al had wished her harm and, moreover, had seen that harm had occurred. When she thought back on her attack, on the pain and the slow recovery, on how she had felt so vulnerable and afraid and how the fear of that had caused her to react and murder Dolly's attacker in the whore's room…she pressed her hands against her head as though to block out the true meaning of it all. The resulting aftermath, the attack, the killing of Baker, the death of Kitty and her eventual union with Al…it had all stemmed from that one moment, that moment that he had planned for. His words to her on the balcony that evening, when he gave voice to his feelings and allowed her to do the same…it had all been a lie, a carefully concocted lie stemming from his wish to take from her. Take her share of the Gem, take her attentions, her heart, her body…despite his protestations to the contrary, despite the paper signed and witnessed retaining her share of the saloon, despite his giving her the gold…it had all started with his deep seated need to hurt her, to demonstrate to her that she would always be lesser and that he, Al Swearengen, would always be master.

What if she hadn't taken ill? What if his child still lived inside her? What if she had borne that child and been bound to him by blood? Would he have ever revealed his terrible secret, or would she have lived the rest of her life in blissful ignorance, believing herself wed to a man who was inherently incapable of love?

His show of power against Wai-Lee had not been done to avenge her. How could it have been when he cared so little for her? It had been done in an attempt to show others in the camp that even disease could not topple Al Swearengen from the throne of Deadwood. How foolish she had been to accept what he had claimed as his reasons for not completing the deadly action. How foolish she had been to love him.

And why had she loved him? She had despised him as he had despised her and yet, how easily she had fallen prey to him, how quickly she had sought out his glances and desired his touch. Had she merely been looking for someone to take her father's place as guide and protector? What other reason could there have been for her to lower her defences to a previously sworn enemy?

She sat up, her head aching from the weight of sorrow and fatigue. It seemed incredible for him to believe that she would remain in the camp knowing all that he had revealed to her. What reasoning could he had convinced himself with that she would not choose to leave knowing what she now did? How did he envision her remaining in the camp, being forced to witness him atop the Gem balcony every day? How was it preferable to her remaining and still, despite everything, loving him?

There was no choice to make. It was imperative that she left, whether Hearst meant harm to her or not. She could only hope that she might be able to persuade him to a different course of action if required, or that Phoebe might indeed be a true friend, unaware of her husband's intentions. If it came to it, she knew she could fight for her life by word or deed, and if it were her time to die, then who would mourn her? Certainly not her husband, and her parents, already gone before her, would welcome her.

Glancing at the small clock on the side she saw that it was after eight o'clock. Two hours until she was due at the Gem to sign the paper freeing herself from the monster. Two hours until he no longer had any hold over her. She took a deep breath and pushed her hair back from her face, wiping away a stray, escaping tear. She had to present herself as uncaring, unconcerned at that which he had revealed to her. Emotionless.

It would be a façade, but it would be the only way.

XXXX

"You talked to him this morning?"

"Nope. You?"

Dan shook his head. "Didn't even see him come back last night from wherever it was he went after his words with Ellsworth, though I could probably venture to guess."

"Catherine?" Silas asked.

"Only one person can make Al act the way he's acting now," Dan replied, glancing up at the closed office door. "If he ain't shown himself, then it's something to do with her. Told me last night that she's planning on leaving the camp." Silas said nothing. "Leaving the camp with Hearst."

"Yeah."

"You knew?"

Silas nodded. "Told me a few nights ago, after her display in here with Earp."

"How'd he take the suggestion?"

"Ill-out, and unsurprisingly so given his threat to her."

Dan frowned, "What threat?"

Silas sighed. "Hearst…threatened Catherine's safety on account of Al saying he wouldn't assist him in the procurement of Mrs Ellsworth's claim. Reckoned Al would rise to the occasion upon a threat to his nearest and dearest."

"Ellsworth was in high dudgeon over Al speaking with the Mrs Ellsworth regarding her claim," Dan said. "Told Al he should have directed the conversation to himself and the overall impression I got was that she ain't selling." He paused. "Why's he confiding all this in you anyways? I've known him the longest, should be me."

"Does it really fucking matter?" Silas asked.

"Yes it fucking does! I am…"

"Dan!"

Both men broke off as the office door flew open and Al appeared on the balcony above them.

"Morning boss."

"Get over to the hardware store and tell Bullock I want him here at ten after the hour to bear witness."

"Bear witness to what?"

"Never you fucking mind," Al growled. "Just tell him to be here or I will drag her over there myself by her hair and I don't think he'd appreciate that." Without further explanation, he retreated back into the office and slammed the door.

"You know to what he's referring?" Dan turned to Silas. "Seeing as you're so fucking informed and the like?"

"I got a fair idea."

"Care to share?"

"Ain't you got an errand to run?"

Dan glowered at the other man, irritated at his own lack of knowledge, then slapped his hat down onto his head and made haste towards the door. As he stepped out into the morning sunshine and made to cross the thoroughfare, he caught sight of Trixie making her way speedily towards him. "I ain't got time for whatever's got your blood up, Trixie," he pre-empted her. "I've got business to conduct for Al."

"She wants to see him," Trixie spoke as if she hadn't heard him.

"She? Catherine?"

"No, Mrs Ellsworth. Cornered me not five seconds after I walked through the door of the bank this morning and told me that it was a matter of utmost urgency that she speak with Al." She paused. "Will you give him the message or shall I?"

Dan paused, torn between which task was more worthy of himself as Al's right hand man, and settled on the former. "You tell him. I have to inform Bullock of Al's intentions." He hurried away before she could say anymore, arriving at the hardware store at the same time as Seth.

"Mr Dority," Seth greeted him formally.

"Al's fixing to see you at ten o'clock," Dan said. "Needs you at the Gem to bear witness."

"Bear witness to what?"

"Al'll explain everything come the hour. I'll tell him you'll be in attendance?"

Seth paused and then let out a long sigh. "Do I have any fucking choice?"

Dan paused, as though seriously contemplating the other man's words, then shook his head. "No."

XXXX

Al stepped out onto the balcony, watching as Dan made his way towards the hardware store in deliverance of his message. The sun was already up, the air warm and pleasant and yet he took no comfort from the delights the morning brought. Sleep had evaded him and he had instead watched the hours tick by and the sky slowly lighten towards dawn, his mind filled with one vision – the look on Catherine's face as he had imparted his truth to her.

Matters had not turned out as he had intended. He had assumed that she wished to remain in the camp and chose not to simply because of her warm feelings towards him. Disavowing her of those feelings should have given her cause to realise that she need not flee upon their parting but instead, it had only succeeded in pushing her further towards her ill-thought course. After she had closed the door on him, he had pondered his options. Break it down and continue their quarrel, arrange to hold her prisoner thus preventing her departure or, as he desired, take her to bed and reclaim her as his wife.

"Fucking simple idea," he muttered to himself, turning back into the office and moving over to his desk. "Changes fucking nothing." He sat down and looked at the papers before him, words and figures jumbled over the pages, giving meaning to nothing. He had contemplating writing her a letter, providing her with a full explanation of his words and deeds. But when he thought on the content, he knew it would be impossible. Reiterating what he had already told her seemed only intended to cause further pain. Advising her that he had never cared for her was a lie he felt uncomfortable committing to paper. An outpouring of the truth would most likely only cause her to attempt to dissuade him from their parting and, in that, he had to remain resolute.

Just as he was considering how the day might proceed, the office door flew open and Trixie appeared, breathless from exertion. "Thank fuck you're here."

"Where else would you find me at such an hour?"

"Mrs Ellsworth asks for your presence at the bank."

"For what purpose?"

"She didn't disclose that to me, but there was urgency in her tone." Trixie paused. "Can I take her your reply?"

Al paused, considering the sudden turn of events. The purpose of such conversation could, he surmised, only be in relation to one matter; Hearst. Perhaps she had changed her mind, or perhaps she simply wished to rebuke him as her husband had.

"Tell her I will call on her at a quarter after ten," he replied.

"Fine," Trixie nodded and then turned to hurry from the room.

Alone again, Al rose and wandered back over to the balcony, shielding his eyes from the morning glare. "What might the day fucking bring?"

XXXX

Shortly after ten, Catherine entered the Gem, paying no heed to anyone with cause to look at her. She ignored the gaze of the whores and crossed the floor as though fully entitled to hold court. She had dressed as well as she possibly could and a final glance in the looking glass before leaving Shaughnessy's had led her to conclude that she looked well. Well enough to face her husband, at any rate. A shot of whisky from a bottle hidden beneath her bed had helped steel her resolve and as she had made haste to her destination, she had felt her confidence grow with each step. She had nothing to be ashamed of, done nothing to open her to rebuke. They would be undertaking a simple transaction, nothing more.

As she climbed the stairs, she could feel eyes on her back and knew that Johnny and Dan were watching her from behind the bar. As she ventured along the balcony, Silas emerged from Al's office, stopping in front of her.

"Catherine."

"Silas." Without recourse to further conversation, she moved past him to the door and knocked smartly. At Al's instruction, she ventured inside where, to her dismay, she saw they were alone, with no sign of Bullock.

He rose from the chair behind the desk. "Catherine."

"Mr Swearengen."

He cocked his head on one side, "Is that what we are to one another now? Do we greet each other formally?"

"Yes, I think it best, don't you?"

"As you wish, Mrs Swearengen." He reached into his desk and pulled out a bottle and two glasses. "Drink?"

"No thank you." She watched as he poured one for himself and tried hard not to let her gaze wander to the bed, fully on display through the open adjoining door. The memory of what had transpired there, good and bad, was not something she could allow herself to fall victim to at such a moment. "I assumed Sheriff Bullock would be here."

"I asked him to delay a little," Al replied.

"On what grounds?" she asked angrily. "We agreed on ten o'clock. I see no reason to…"

"Mrs Ellsworth asks that I pay a call on her at the bank," he interrupted her. "I believe our conversation will relate to matters dear to all of us, namely her claim and what she intends to do with it."

Catherine paused. "You think her intention now is to sell to Hearst?"

"I am hopeful that she will now look upon the opportunity more favourably."

"You said yesterday that she had no intention to sell. That she wouldn't be swayed by your…inducements."

"Which is why I hope she now sees things more clearly and why I would also entreat you to allow us to postpone this occasion."

"Whether Mrs Ellsworth has agreed to sell her claim to Mr Hearst has no bearing on this occasion. I fail to see why meeting with her should alter anything that we require to do here today in order to dissolve our union." She pulled the neatly folded document from her pocket and tried not to let her hand shake as she placed it down on the desk. "It need not be Bullock. Anyone can bear witness. Dan, Silas…"

"I would prefer it witnessed by the Sheriff."

"And I would prefer the matter concluded now!" She felt the hot prick of tears and willed them away. "Then I have no more need to fucking look upon you." He moved towards her and her hands involuntarily clenched at her sides, ready to strike him if necessary. At the same time, her lower body contracted with the memory of his touch and, hating herself, she moved away from him towards the balcony. "I fear your delay can only be self-serving in nature."

"You are welcome to remain here until my business at the bank is concluded," he replied, his expression impassive.

She sighed heavily, crossing the room and lowering herself into one of the vacant chairs and averting her gaze from his. "I suppose I really have little fucking choice."


	14. Chapter 14

Alma's expression was guarded when he entered the bank and Al found himself torn between demanding the purpose of her summons and carefully holding his counsel. If, as he suspected, the exchange was to relate to the issue of her claim then he was anxious that nothing passing between them cause needless upset. She greeted him with a tight smile and gestured for him to sit.

"I'm given to understand," she began, "that you spoke with my husband yesterday evening."

"He came to me, yes."

"I'm also given to understand that his temper was…aroused."

Al paused, wondering where the conversation was leading. "Mr Ellsworth was…animated, shall we say at my having come to you regarding Hearst's desire for your claim. I took his meaning to be that he would have preferred such conversation take place man to man as it were."

Her mouth pinched disapprovingly. "Well, the claim is in my name, Mr Swearengen and any such decisions as to its future are mine to make alone. In any event, I feel it prudent to advise you that you were not the first person to approach me regarding the suggestion that I may consider striking a deal with Mr Hearst, despite my reaction to the contrary."

Al raised in eyebrows in surprise, "May I enquire as to who else has made overtures to you?"

"Mrs Hearst herself. Not the first time we had occasion to meet, I grant her that, but on the second. She explained to me that her husband was interested in acquiring my claim and asked me if there were terms upon which I might consider selling. I advised her that those terms would require to be favourable to me. I heard nothing further from her on the matter, nor have I been approached by her husband."

"I see…" Al pondered the information, recognising that Phoebe Hearst may not have been so innocent in her befriending of Catherine after all, despite the reassurance he had tried to give her. "Hearst expects you to go to him."

"I took that from my meeting with his wife, yes," Alma replied. "After our conversation yesterday, I spoke with Mr Ellsworth to take his view on the subject. I can only surmise that our discussion led him to you."

"And do you intend to approach Hearst directly or do you remain resolute in your intention not to sell?"

Alma rose from her chair and moved towards the window. "I must confess to have grown to like Deadwood and many of the people who reside here. As you pointed out, I have made a position for myself with my claim and this bank…" she paused. "But, as you also stated, I am a mother and I must take heed of Sofia's needs along with my own. She has already been through so much…" She turned back to look at him. "You truly believe that Mr Hearst is a man capable of violence?"

"As one man to another, yes," he replied. "But the difference between us is that he takes pleasure in it whereas I act only upon necessity."

"You said before that I should sell to him not only for my sake and the sake of the camp, but for Mrs Swearengen's sake too."

"Yes."

"May I ask why she necessitated special mention?"

Al paused. "I advised you that she intends leaving the camp with Mr and Mrs Hearst."

"You also advised that she would not be leaving and, I took from that remark that you would not permit it."

"Truth be told I have no influence over Catherine and will soon have even less. She leaves believing herself to have no future left in the camp. She leaves believing that she has found companionship with Mrs Hearst and the support to begin a new life elsewhere. In truth, the suggestion was not her own but put to her, by Hearst, in an attempt to separate her from me and use her against me in his bid to acquire your claim."

"I'm not sure that I understand."

"He intends to harm her in some way, be that injury or death I do not know. But the threat was issued in order to persuade me to assist him in his course. In past times that might have occurred by me coming at you harder and more insistently than I did."

"And yet you merely gave me a gentle warming."

"Indeed."

"May I ask why?"

It was a question he had asked himself many times, not least of all when Hearst had suggested his involvement and he had refuted it. The past months had changed him somewhat, perhaps forever. "As previously stated, I act only in necessity."

"And you do not believe that the situation presented warrants necessity?"

He paused again, thinking on her words. What could cause greater necessity than a threat issued against the one he cared for the most beyond himself? At the very moment, why did he not have a knife pressed to Mrs Ellsworth's throat in a bid to force her to sell? It was surely what any man, any husband, would do faced with such circumstances. And yet, he couldn't help but think again on Catherine's face when he had revealed the truth behind her attack and on Ellsworth's feelings were a similar fate to befall the woman now in front of him, despite the differing state of their marriage from his own. "I believe in the power of the spoken word on this matter, rather than the power of the weapon."

Alma nodded. "In any event, I have decided that I will speak with Mr Hearst this afternoon on this matter. I see no difficulty in hearing his suggestion at the very least."

"I trust you don't intend meeting him alone."

She looked at him defiantly. "You think me incapable of conducting such negotiations?"

"No. I think you incapable of being able to adequately defend yourself should he come at you."

"Do you propose to act as my guardian?"

"I propose that your husband adopts that role," he replied. "It would be his place and, of no question, his desire."

She nodded again. "Thank you for your wisdom and your concerns."

"Thank you for agreeing to meet with the man." Al rose from the chair. "Might I be so bold as to ask for dissection of the discussion thereafter?"

"I foresee no difficulty with that."

"Good." He smiled at her. "Glad to fucking hear it."

XXXX

It was fully three quarters of ten before Al returned to the Gem and Catherine found herself pacing restlessly around the office, unsure where to put herself, unsure what to do. She had partaken of the whisky offered after all and, having consumed two large glasses, could feel her head starting to buzz slightly with anticipation, fear, anxiety and many other emotions she couldn't quite identify. When the door opened and he appeared in front of her again, she fought hard to pull herself back to a state of calm detachment.

"I trust your business with Mrs Ellsworth is concluded?"

"For a time," he replied, pouring himself a glass and draining it whole. "She's agreed to speak with Hearst regarding her claim and advise me of the outcome thereafter."

"I see. Well I'm glad that things appear to be taking a fortuitous turn for you." She got to her feet. "Now, may we summon Bullock and have this fucking matter concluded?"

He looked at her. "It ain't me fortune favours should a mutually agreeable deal be struck between the two. You think I became involved in this matter to serve my own interests?"

"I think you want Hearst out of the fucking camp and would do anything to hasten that."

"Listen to me," he advanced towards her. "My involvement in this sorry affair has been for the sole purpose of ensuring your fucking safety. Makes no odds to me who has right to the Ellsworth woman's claim so long as Hearst's eye no longer wanders over you with the intent to cause harm. If she renounces her claim, then so should he renounce his threat."

Catherine shook her head. "Your words mean fucking nothing to me after what you divulged to me last night. To have me believe that you act in my protection now when, but months ago, you were the author of my misfortune…"

"I have explained my reasons for that."

"Yes you have, and they fucking disgust me. That you would see merit in causing such suffering to a woman in order to secure what you desired and whom you then sought to manipulate into carnal lust and matrimony…"

"Manipulate?" he rounded on her. "If memory serves, there was no manipulation required. You flattered me with your glances long before I took you in the whores' room when you attempted to fuck in Kitty's stead and you did not shy away from declaring your feelings for me right there upon that balcony!"

"As did you, whilst knowing all along they were untrue!" she retorted. "How it must have brought you satisfaction to have me so…infatuated when you felt nothing for me in return!"

"Did you not hear me when I explained to you that, at the time of the incident, I felt nothing akin to what I subsequently felt? What I still feel?"

She wanted to believe him, was desperate to believe him. The pain of him renouncing her had been softened only by her belief that he did it for her sake, for her protection. That he still truly loved her and sought distance only because he could not bring himself to lie with her. And yet, how far could that be now from the truth?

Before she could say anything further, there was a knock at the door and Seth entered, pausing when he saw them. "Do I interrupt something important?"

"No," she said quickly before Al could respond. "You've arrived at quite the opportune moment." She moved away from him over to the desk and smoothed out the paper. "This is what you're here to witness. Perhaps you should read it."

Seth glanced at Al and then came to look over her shoulder. "We, Albert Swearengen and Catherine Swearengen, hereby renounce all duties and fidelities owed to one another and hereby dissolve the marital union proclaimed before God and under the law of Deadwood on April 9th 1876. We hereby confirm that there are no debts due to or by either party." He paused and looked up. "Seems…fine to me."

"Good." Catherine lifted the quill that lay on the desk, dipped it in the inkwell and signed her name with a flourish before turning back to her husband. "Shall you affix your signature next to mine?" Al said nothing for a long moment, then moved around the desk beside her, took the quill from her outstretched hand and made his mark. "Sheriff, you must sign as witness." She watched as Seth took the quill from Al and sealed the transaction. Lifting the paper, she blew onto the ink gently, watching as it slowly dried before her eyes. "Thank you," she directed her comment to Seth. "I will ensure this is passed to my lawyer and no doubt he will see fit what to do with it."

She turned back to look at Al and instantly felt emotion bubble within her. He was looking at her with such sorrow, such regret that, for a moment, she could almost have believed what he had said was true. Then she straightened her shoulders and met his direct gaze. "Mr Swearengen, I believe our business here is now concluded."

"Miss McCord."

The use of her given name brought her up sharply and a lump rose in her throat. "Well then…I shall take my leave of you. Good day." Without further recourse, she turned for the door, determined to keep her step steady when all she wished to do was flee. As she made her way along the balcony to the stairs, Silas appeared from the shadows and stepped into her path.

"Don't leave the camp," he said quietly.

"You no longer need to do Mr Swearengen's fucking bidding when it comes to me," she replied. "I am no longer under his control."

He caught her arm as she made to move past him. "You were never under his fucking control. You were here because you wanted to be here."

"And I wish that no fucking longer. Good day." She pulled her arm out of his grip and continued on her path down the stairs, across the bar towards the door, knowing that she would never set foot across the threshold again. Just as freedom was in sight, Dolly appeared from her left, her face drawn.

"Deserting the fucking sinking ship?" she asked, her voice low, her tone filled with anger.

Catherine paused, aware that she was doing just that and yet knowing there was no other option for her. "Jumping overboard while there's a chance I can find something to cling onto," she replied. "Goodbye Dolly."

"Fuck you."

She watched the other woman move back into the shadows and then continued out into the afternoon sunshine. "Yeah, fuck me."

XXXX

"You wanna talk about it, boss?"

Al glanced at his pocket watch, "No."

Dan paused. "I'm sorry…about you and Catherine that is."

"Are you Dan? Are you truly?"

"Course."

"For I recall that it was you who cautioned me against entering the state of matrimony at the time. Do you not find yourself vindicated by the turn of events?"

The other man paused again. "Should I?"

Al sighed and shook his head. "I had expected word to come swiftly after Mrs Ellsworth's meeting with Hearst." He moved to the door and stepped out onto the balcony. "He has not seen fit to emerge from within. They still discuss matters, perchance."

"Want me to go over to the bank and see if she's there?"

"No. She will come to me by some means I have no doubt. She appreciates the impact the outcome of her discussion has on us all." He paused. "My understanding is that the man intends to leave the camp in but a few short days."

"Adams said…well, he said that Hearst had threatened Catherine on account of your not wanting to assist him with the Ellsworth claim. That true?"

"The threat was issued, yes."

"And yet…you're going to let her leave the camp with him?"

Al turned back around to face the other man. "Were you not commiserating mere moments ago on the end of my union with Catherine? Do you not see how the end of such union ends any influence that I may have held over her in terms of what she does or doesn't decide to fucking do?"

"I guess, but I figured…"

"You figured what?"

"I figured you'd still look to her and all, you know, given who she is and who her daddy was."

"What would you have me do, Dan? Chain her in the whores' room until such time as Hearst has departed in order to prevent her from leaving with him?" It was a notion he had given some consideration to and yet, ultimately, had the wisdom to realise would most likely change nothing.

"You did it to that Chink, what's the difference?"

Poised to reply, Al broke off at the sight of Alma emerging from the hotel. To his eye, she looked slightly unsteady on her feet, glancing up briefly to meet his gaze before stumbling along the boardwalk back in the direction of the bank. "Mrs Ellsworth returns," he said, turning away and hurrying across to the door. "Mind things here until I return." Without recourse as to whether the other man might have had comment, Al rushed down the stairs and across the floor out of the Gem into the thoroughfare and hastily followed Alma's course. When he reached the bank, he threw open the door in time to see Alma pacing restlessly, clearly shaken, with Trixie attempting to offer comfort. "Can I assume discussions did not go well?"

Alma turned to look at him, momentarily seeming unable to speak. "That man…he is…" she broke off and pressed her hand to her head. "Everything you said about his character proved true."

"Did he lay hand on you?"

"No…" she shook her head. "No, he had no need for that. But I could very well see him capable should the situation have turned ugly. I have never…never…"

"Let me fetch fucking Ellsworth," Trixie said.

"No!"

"He should be here to comfort you at such a time!"

"No," Alma shook her head. "No, it is best he does not see me in this condition. I fear what he may do were he to know…know what transpired." She met Al's gaze again. "You were right to be concerned for Mrs Swearengen's safety."

"He made mention of her?" Al asked.

"He had no need. His words and actions alone could have left me in little doubt of the threat he would pose to anyone he deemed deserving of it." She paused and took a breath. "I have agreed to sell my claim to him in return for the safe continuation of my living in this camp. Mine and Sofia's…and Mr Ellsworth's," she added hastily. "The transaction will be completed within the next few days prior to his departure from the camp. You need no longer fear on Mrs Swearengen's account. He shall have what he desires."

It was impossible not to feel relief at her words, yet he tried hard not to let it show lest it seem he made light of what she had clearly endured. "For that, I thank you," he said. "I hope that time and, perhaps stiff liquor, might ease the sense of fear your interview with him has caused. I'd be happy to stand you as many drinks as you needed over at the Gem."

Alma smiled slightly at the invitation, "I think you, Mr Swearengen, but I shall decline your kind offer on this occasion."

"Stands as long as you need it," he reiterated, turning for the door. "Same goes for Ellsworth, should he wish to consider taking another run at me."

"You going to tell her?" Trixie interjected.

"Tell who what?"

"Catherine. About Mrs Ellsworth selling her share."

He turned away again, "Maybe."

XXXX

"Oh my goodness!" Phoebe declared, pressing her hand against her forehead. "Who would have considered that such humour and jollity could come out of such a sorrowful day, not to mention such consumption of liquor!"

Catherine laughed and drained her glass, holding it out for a refill which Farnum dutifully provided. "Who would have considered."

"May I provide you ladies with anything further?" he asked, hovering at the table and glancing between them.

"The continual supply of liquor is enough," Phoebe replied.

"You can say that again," Catherine agreed.

"The continual supply of liquor is enough." Both women descended into peals of laughter once more and Farnum, clearly ill at ease as to how to proceed, simply nodded and then scuttled away. "Oh my dear Catherine…" Phoebe wiped her eyes. "I am sorry for making such sport of your terrible news."

"I'd wager it ain't so fucking terrible," Catherine replied. "To be fucking free is not something to mourn."

"But truth be told…" Phoebe looked at her. "You must feel some pain, some regret…?"

Catherine looked down into her glass, pondering the question. After leaving Al's office, the signed document safely upon her person, she had returned to her room for a while and sat in silence, contemplating the future. The fact that nothing need tie her to the camp anymore both excited and frightened her. She had sought Seth out at the hardware store and asked if he could get word to her lawyer, Robert Finch, that the matter had been concluded and the document was ready for collection. He had advised her that he would, and she had seen in his eyes, a curiosity to ask her about her situation. But she had turned away before he could do so and spent some time with Joanie where she had cried over the death of her marriage before picking herself up in time to meet Phoebe, vowing that sorrow would no longer come into matters. Delivering the news in a matter of fact way had led the other woman to insist that they eat together at the hotel and partake of liquor which had quickly rendered them both nonsensical.

"Should I feel regret?" she asked finally.

"Well, if I were to be parted from George, I know that I would feel regret."

"The difference being that your husband harbours true feelings for you, whereas mine has only made a pretence of it." As she spoke, she felt the bubble of emotion in her breast again and she fought it down, unwilling to allow Al Swearengen to occupy any more of her thoughts. "I have enjoyed our dinner this evening."

"As have I!" Phoebe exclaimed. "And when we are in San Francisco, we will be able to do this regularly and in many different, wonderful establishments. George!" she exclaimed her husband's name loudly. "Won't you join us? We are such a merry twosome."

"As I can observe," Hearst remarked as he approached the table. "My dear, Mrs Swearengen."

"Oh no, Catherine is Miss McCord again now!" Phoebe exclaimed. "She and Mr Swearengen were parted earlier today."

"Is that so?" he turned to look at Catherine. "I am grieved to hear it. I had hoped matters might have been capable of remediation."

"They were never capable of that," Catherine replied, draining her glass and filling it up again from the bottle on the table. "All I can say is, fucking amen."

"Amen!" Phoebe chorused. "Oh what a life you will have in California! And you so young! There is ample time for you to meet and marry another. I shall set my sights upon finding you a husband as soon as we arrive. Indeed, I may already have some contenders in mind!"

"Perhaps it might be best to give Miss McCord some time to acclimatise to her new surroundings before you attempt to tie her in wedlock to another," Hearst said. "I'm sure that there are many things that she would wish to do before that."

"Indeed there fucking are," Catherine said, hiccupping slightly over her words. "Many, many things."

"I do believe I am quite tipsy," Phoebe said, getting to her feet. "I fear I must retire to my room before I say or do something liable to leave me open to rebuke. George, dearest, perhaps you could see fit to asking Captain Turner to walk Catherine back to her lodgings? I don't think it would be wise for her to traverse the camp alone at night in a state of inebriation."

"I am perfectly fucking fine," Catherine said, rising from her chair and then staggering slightly against the table. "I am perfectly capable of finding my own way home."

"Nonsense! George…"

Hearst paused and then glanced from Catherine to his wife and then back again. "I don't believe we need take Captain Turner's time with such a task. I would be more than honoured to ensure that Miss McCord arrives safely back at her lodgings, if you would permit me to accompany you that is?"

Catherine paused, taking in the genuine expression on his face whilst Al's words swirled around in her brain. Hearst will hurt you…Hearst will kill you…She couldn't help but wonder if all of that had been a lie too, to force her to do Al's bidding, to keep her in line, to keep her prisoner. "I am prisoner no longer!" she declared before remembering the silence of her own thoughts. "I would be glad of your company, Mr Hearst, so long as Phoebe has no concern at sparing you for a time?"

"None at all!" Phoebe declared. "It has been such a wonderful evening." She slid around the table and pulled Catherine into an embrace. "Just don't keep his attentions too long," she whispered. "Liquor always brings out the wanton side of me." Pulling back, she grinned lasciviously before planting a kiss on her husband's cheek and then heading, rather inelegantly, for the stairs.

"Shall we?"

Catherine turned back to where Hearst was standing, his arm outstretched for her to take. Gratefully, she stepped forwards and wrapped her hand around it. "Thank you Mr Hearst, you are most fucking kind."


	15. Chapter 15

They walked together companionably, Hearst's arm steady under her hand preventing her from tripping and falling, owing more to her inebriation than any physical difficulty under foot, despite the unevenness of the thoroughfare. He talked generally in relation to matters about which she had no real interest and only listened to with half an ear. Her head swam slightly in the fresh air and as they neared Shaughnessy's, she pulled her hand free in order to rummage in her cloth purse for her door key.

"You and Mrs Hearst made quite a spectacle of yourselves this evening," he remarked as she lifted out her prize and wielded it in front of him. "I believe half the inhabitants of the camp may have been party to your jubilation."

"My apologies," Catherine said. "Often time events in life can lead us to the bottle. Far too much liquor has been consumed this evening and I'm sure that Phoebe only followed my poor example. I would wager she ain't much of a fucking drinker."

"She knows how to comport herself."

"Sadly, it appears I do not," she laughed, pushed the key into the lock and turned it. "Again, I do apologise if I caused any embarrassment to you or your wife."

"You are to be her new pet, it would appear. She quite fancies having you joined to her for some time to come, particularly as you shall be living in our home until such time as your own lodgings are found. I would hope that once in the city, certain…edges…may be smoothed."

Catherine turned to face him, mockingly indignant at his words. "What are you suggesting, Mr Hearst? That I am to be a poor influence on your wife?"

"Merely that San Francisco is very different to Deadwood," he replied, stepping closer to her. "Things that transpire in this camp are…frowned upon…in the city. As my guest I would expect you to display the appropriate decorum required."

Being of a mind that he was perhaps only half joking, she elected to bring the conversation to an end. "Of course, of that I can assure you. I thank you for accompanying me home and I shall bid…"

"Not to mention, of course, the appropriate gratitude."

"Gratitude?"

"For my kind patronage in allowing you to travel with us."

Al's words regarding the other man's patronage and what it possibly entailed came back to her and, for a moment, she was tempted to ask whether or not he had yet managed to secure Mrs Ellsworth's claim. But, thinking better of it, merely smiled. "I'm very fucking grateful to you Mr Hearst."

"I'm gratified to hear it," he moved closer to her again, so that her back was pressed up against the door. "Liquor appears to have the effect of loosening your tongue, Miss McCord. I wonder if it also assists in loosening up certain other elements of your character."

"I'm not sure that I…"

"Having lived in a whorehouse all these months and run other women, I'm sure that there is nothing of the sexual act with which you are not familiar." He reached out and pressed his hands onto her waist, causing her to gasp slightly. "A marriage endured thus far as long as mine, can bring with it certain disadvantages that I'm sure a woman such as you can understand."

"I…"

"A man's tastes change over time." Before she could react, her had reached behind her and twisted the knob, causing the door to open under their weight and propel them inside. He slammed it behind him and advanced towards her even as she backed away from him into the centre of the room.

"Mr Hearst…" she started, hearing her voice tremble over the words. "I'm not sure what you're fucking expecting from me, but I will not…"

"Fucking is indeed what I am expecting Miss McCord. You will do what is required of you and be glad of it." His hand snapped out and grabbed hold of her wrist, pulling her into him and gripping her tightly. "I wager even Mr Swearengen, a man of considerable experience in the bedchamber I have no doubt, knew what to do with you."

"Take your hands off me!" she struggled against him.

"And return to my wife, no doubt by now snoring like a pig in her drunken stupor? I see little merit in that when I am here right now with you." He swung her around and pushed her hard onto the bed, climbing atop her before she had time to react and pulling up her skirts. "I wager that there is plenty of ripeness to you yet and I can only imagine with pleasure the look in Mr Swearengen's eyes when he finds out that I have laid claim to that which he cares so deeply about."

He was pressing down on her, so hard that she could barely draw breath, the blankets smothering her cries of protestation. He was strong, stronger than even Al had ever been, and she could feel his hands on the bare skin of her buttocks, moving upwards, attempting to pull aside her briefs. "No! Stop! Stop, please!" There had never been a time when she had been forced, not by the one she had lain with first and not with Al. She had thought, so many times, about how the whores must have felt, being forced to lie with men they had no warm feelings for and had been grateful for her lot. But now…now it seemed she was to join their unfortunate ranks. "No!" she screamed again, managing to twist her face so that the sound carried. "Get off me you fucking cocksucker!"

"Cocksucker?" Hearst paused and then grabbed her body again, pulling her around onto her back so that she could see the anger in his face. "You call me a cocksucker?" He slapped her hard, the force propelling her off of the bed and onto her stomach on the floor with a thud. "You call me a cocksucker after all I have done for you and I shall call you a whore!"

Winded though she was, Catherine could see the glint of steel under the bed and suddenly remembered the knife she had hidden there, choosing no longer to carry it with her. Stretching as far as she could, she felt her fingers close over the blade as Hearst pulled her backwards towards him and, using as much strength as she could, she twisted back around to face him, wielding the weapon in front of her. "Take your hands off me or I shall gut you like the stinking pig you are!"

He paused momentarily and started laughing. "You think me afraid of you, wielding a blade as though you knew how to use it?"

"I wouldn't be so fucking cocksure," she replied. "I've killed one man already with this blade and almost killed my husband too. The scar on his body lays testimony to that fact, so do not think me unschooled in its use." For a moment, he simply stared at her and she could feel her heart thudding with fear in her chest. How easy it would seemingly be for him to disarm her and then she would have nothing left to fight with but her own strength. In some way she thought perhaps it might be simpler to let him have her, but then she had never been one to give up without some kind of fight. Suddenly, he rose to his feet and started rebuttoning his lower clothing whilst she lay on the floor beneath him, the blade still outstretched in her hand.

"We leave camp on the early stagecoach Friday morning," he said, as though nothing untoward had transpired between them. "I will expect you to be waiting by the hotel."

His change of tone momentarily confused her. "What makes you think for one fucking moment that I am going to go anywhere with you?"

"Because foolish and dim-witted as you are, you can see opportunity for yourself when it is presented. Isn't that something that drives every whore?" He turned for the door. "Phoebe will be expecting you tomorrow, as usual. I would imagine that you wouldn't want to disappoint her."

She wanted to say something more, wanted to call him every name she could think of, wanted to strike him with the blade even though the imminent threat no longer remained. And yet she did none of those things. She remained where she was, prostrate on the floor, until he had left and closed the door behind him. Once alone, she got shakily to her feet, dropped the knife on the bed and hurried over to the looking glass, the redness of her skin staring back at her where he had struck her.

"What have you done?" she asked an unseen confidante. "What the fuck have you done?"

XXXX

"Do you want me to suck your prick?"

Al looked up questioningly at Dolly who was hovering by the door and shook his head. "No, I called you in here to converse on the subject of the very fabric of our camp. On what your opinion might be on George Hearst or indeed the latest fashions from the city…why the fuck do you think I called you in here if not to suck my prick?"

Dolly paused. "You called me once before and then changed your mind."

Al sighed, well remembering the moment. "That, as you know fine fucking well, was different. Catherine lay gripped by the ravages of cholera not ten feet away from here and, at that time, we were still united."

"And you ain't now?"

"You're developing a curious streak that I'm not inclined to think is befitting of your station here."

"Sorry," she lowered her eyes. "Guess things are just back to how they used to be then."

"Well don't sound so fucking downhearted," he said. "It's not as if I've had to force you in the past or indeed now, is it?" She said nothing. "Is it?"

"No."

"Good." He rose from his desk and made his way through to the bedroom, unbuttoning his duds as he did so and then lying back against the headrest as she approached the bed. "You know, a smile or something akin to enjoyment and anticipation at the task before you might not go amiss. Ain't like I'm asking you to open your legs for me."

Dolly sat down on the bed and looked at him, "Why ain't you?"

"Never you fucking mind. Let's just get down to business, shall we?" He closed his eyes and let his mind start to wander. The bedsprings creaked as she moved over him and, moments later, he felt the calm pleasure of her mouth on him. The whore was good, he had to at least give her that. Kitty had always been his favourite in that department, but Dolly ran a close second. Not like some of the other girls who had clearly been born without talent. Though, of course, none of them could match…

"If you wanna talk," Dolly lifted her head momentarily. "I don't mind."

He looked at her for a moment and then pushed her head back down towards his prick. Something in her tone made him decide to forego talking. Sometimes, in the grip of pleasure, a man could say things that didn't warrant repetition, even from one whore to another, and he knew he couldn't wager that a certain name wouldn't be mentioned, no matter how hard he tried to restrain himself.

He had chosen not to run to her with tales of how agreement had been reached between Hearst and Mrs Ellsworth. What purpose would it have served for him to do so, knowing that there were many other means by which she might find out the news, not least of all from Trixie, witness herself to the emotional aftermath. Given everything that transpired, it seemed safest in the long run to keep a distance, to let her set her own course as she seemed determined to do and hope fervently that she changed her mind.

"We're no longer united…" he found himself saying at the crucial moment. "There is nothing to feel reproach for. Nothing. Nothing at all…" When it had passed and he looked over to see Dolly wiping her mouth on her shawl, he lifted the bottle sat beside the bed and passed it to her. "Here." She looked confused. "Take a fucking drink. Helps with the taste, though it's not as if I need to tell you that, is it?" She shook her head silently and then drank, offering a shy smile when the bottle left her lips, reminding him of the beauty she could display at times. Her company would be preferable to no company at all. "Stay awhile, if you like."

Dolly passed the bottle back to him and pulled her legs up onto the bed. "You wanna talk now?"

"No," he replied. "I think companionable silence might be best."

XXXX

"You have to tell Al."

"Well that ain't happening."

"Catherine…"

"Joanie…" Catherine paced agitatedly in front of her friend whose room she had fled to upon being sure Hearst was gone. "I can't tell him. What good would it do anyways?"

"He can take revenge on Hearst!" Joanie exclaimed. "Avenge your honour, do whatever it is husbands are meant to do when their wives get set upon by other men!"

"I ain't his wife any longer! He owes no obligation to avenge me for fucking anything!"

"Maybe so, but he still would! You know he would!"

"No," she shook her head. "No, despite his protestations to the contrary, Al Swearengen has never cared for me, much less experienced any emotion akin to the love a man should have for his wife. How much greater my humiliation would be were I to tell him of this and for him to do nothing."

"Well if you ain't going to tell him, what are you going to do? You can't leave the camp with Hearst, not now."

"Why can't I? Just because he presumed to take advantage of me in one way doesn't mean that I can't still take advantage of his offer to allow me to travel with them. The offer of a new life away from here."

"Listen to yourself," Joanie got to her feet. "The man just tried to violate you in your own bedchamber! How can you travel anywhere with him? Just because you managed to fight him off once doesn't mean that you'll be able to do it another time. And there will be another time, Catherine. And what kind of life would that be anyways?"

"If he can just get me to the city then I can make my own way, make my own life," Catherine said doggedly. "I needn't be beholden to him after that and surely he wouldn't attempt anything during our travels, not with Phoebe so close by?"

"Men like him don't care about trivial things like wives. You must have fucking realised that given your situation tonight?"

Catherine paused, thinking back on how she had envied Phoebe when she had first arrived at how her husband seemed to dote on her, love her in a way that Al had seemingly refused to. Now she knew the truth and it brought her no comfort. The other woman was meant to be her friend. Did she know about her husband's predilections or did she live in ignorant bliss? "Maybe he and Al ain't so different," she said quietly. "He's lain with every girl in the Gem."

"That's different and you fucking know it! He ain't lain with any of them since his involvement with you. He ain't out there right now trying to force some poor woman into his bed with the threat of violence."

"No, only because he knows they can't refuse and how much of a better man does that make him? They're both no better than the other and I can't trust Al anymore than I can trust Hearst." She took a breath and nodded resolutely. "I'm still leaving here on Friday, Joanie. Nothing that happened tonight changes that. It's my only way out of this camp."

"But you don't have to leave with Hearst! You got means of your own. Wait until he's gone and then leave!"

"And travel on my own? Wouldn't that open me up to greater danger than travelling with Hearst's protection would?"

"Protection? Catherine, the man tried to force himself upon you!"

"And he saw that I could defend myself. If I have to sleep with that blade in my hand every night between here and San Francisco then I will."

Joanie sighed and shook her head. "And what are you going to do between now and your departure?"

"In terms of what?"

"In terms of hiding your face from Al. Ain't he going to want to say goodbye to you before you leave? How are you going to explain that?"

Catherine touched her cheek gently. "There ain't no reason I need see him close up. No reason for us to draw out our parting. It's only a day. I can hide from him for a day."

August 8th 1876

The morning noise from the thoroughfare woke Al with a start, daylight streaming into the bedroom making him realise that it was far later than he had intended to sleep. Outside, he could hear wagons, people shouting, horses neighing and all the other sounds that made up the camp. For a moment, he lay staring at the ceiling before a shift in the bed next to him caused his gaze to fall upon the figure lying beside him. She was turned away from him, but he could tell it was Dolly and she appeared to be fully unclothed.

"Jesus…" he cursed softly, drawing back the bedclothes to find his duds undone and his prick exposed to the daylight. He recalled her sucking his prick, him asking her to stay awhile and drink with him. Beyond that, his memory was hazy. Getting up, he emptied himself into the pisspot, watching out the window at the scenes before him. E.B was hovering in the thoroughfare like some sort of gutter rat, Seth and Sol were walking companionably towards the hotel and Hearst was standing at the door, conversing with a man he didn't recognise. "Cocksucker," he muttered under his breath. "No doubt working on his plans for his new claim." Finished, he turned back to the bed where Dolly still slept. "You!" She jerked awake and turned to look at him. "There some good fucking reason why you're still here?"

"I…"

"You got work to do and laying in my bed ain't going to make me any money now, is it?"

"No." She hurriedly got to her feet and lifted her clothes from where they lay on the floor.

He watched whilst she dressed, irritated that his mind was vacant as to what had transpired between them. "Did I fuck you?" She looked at him curiously. "Last night after you sucked my prick. Did I fuck you, properly?" For a moment, she remained mute, as though considering what answer was likely to bring about a better outcome. "Forget I asked the question," he said finally. "I don't want to fucking know. Just get out and get fucking someone who's willing to pay for the privilege."

When she was gone, he dressed himself and then headed downstairs where Dan and Johnny were waiting by the bar. "Morning boss," the latter greeted him. "Treating yourself to a late start?"

"Is it any business of yours what time I start my day, Johnny?" Al replied, pouring coffee from the pot.

"No sir, just an observation."

"Well observe something else." He turned to Dan. "I witnessed Hearst conversing in the thoroughfare this morning."

"Conversing with who?"

"That is what I want to you to fucking find out, Dan. No doubt he's making plans for his departure and I wish to know when that might be."

"You need to know how much longer it's going to be before that cocksucker's out of our hair," Dan nodded in agreement.

"Have you been taking lessons from E.B. in repeating back to me what I've just fucking said?" Al said, shaking his head. "Yeah, I want to know how much longer we have to endure that bastard in our midst."

"On it, boss," Dan lifted his hat from the bar and headed for the door, no further instruction needed.

Al drained his coffee and watched him go, unwilling to admit that it was less about how soon he could be rid of Hearst and more about how long he had before he lost someone else.


	16. Chapter 16

Phoebe was talking but Catherine hadn't heard a word of what she had said. It was afternoon and though she had wanted to avoid visiting the other woman, she had found inventing a plausible excuse impossible, especially as the following day they would be in each other's company indefinitely. She had put on as much rouge as she dared in order to try and hide the redness of her cheek, but Phoebe had still noticed and commented upon it in shocked tones, dissipating only when Catherine managed to convince her it had been the result of a drunken fall once alone in her room.

"George should never have left you in such a state as to cause injury to yourself," Phoebe had tutted, shaking her head. "I shall have words with him."

"Please don't," Catherine had implored her, unwilling to draw any more attention to the issue than was absolutely necessary. "It was very kind of him to see me safely back to my room." The words tasted like bile in her throat, but as she had lain in bed the previous evening contemplating all that had happened and all that Joanie had said, she had resolved that the next few weeks and months were simply a process that she had to get through to reach her final independence. She could only hope that, realising she was armed and not afraid to defend herself, Hearst would refrain from repeating his advances towards her. To kill a man such as he, even in defence of her body, would most likely not be treated in the same way as her murder of Baker had been.

"Catherine?" The other woman broke into her reverie.

"Sorry, what?"

"You haven't been listening to a word I've been saying, have you?" Phoebe smiled indulgently. "I don't blame you for your excitement, my dear. I can only imagine how you must feel about the journey ahead, long though it will be."

"How long would you estimate?" she asked casually.

"Well it took me the best part of three weeks to get here, so I would imagine the same in return. But we will stop along the way. All that time thrown together in a stagecoach can be wearying. But I'm sure you've endured worse."

Catherine thought back to her own journey to Deadwood, in a wagon with her father, Al, Trixie, Jewel, Dan and Johnny. A mismatched group, forged at different junctures along the long and weary road from Chicago, a journey she had been in no hurry to repeat, but a group nevertheless. In this, her new venture, it would be her alone, mixed in with the Hearsts'.

"Are you intending saying goodbye to Mr Swearengen before we leave?" Phoebe asked innocently.

"No," Catherine shook her head. "I reckon we've both said all we need to say on the subject. I would like to say goodbye to some other folks though before we leave. Mr Hearst said we were to take the first stage tomorrow morning?"

"Yes, he does love to get a jumpstart on the day," Phoebe sighed. "It will hardly be worthwhile going to bed. But, in any event, I still have some packing to do, as do you I would imagine. I'm certainly not going to expect you to sit here with me all day when we will be like sisters in the coming weeks. Please, go about your business, Catherine, and I will be most delighted to see you first thing in the morning."

Catherine lowered her teacup into the saucer, feeling the china shake slightly under her hand as she did so at the seeming finality of the other woman's words. "Yes, I suppose I could best put in the afternoon that way. I'll take my leave of you then if you don't mind." She got to her feet as the door to the room open and Hearst appeared, the largeness of his frame filling the doorway. He paused and then smiled at her.

"Good afternoon Miss McCord."

"Mr Hearst."

"I hope I'm not interrupting anything."

"No, George, you're not. Catherine is just on her way to make her final preparations before we leave tomorrow," Phoebe explained. "She wishes to say her goodbyes now."

"Very wise, for there will be little time tomorrow." He stepped to one side as she approached the door. "Do let me know if I can be of any assistance with your possessions."

Bile rose in her throat again, but she fought down her feelings and bestowed him with a pleasant smile. "I think I can manage Mr Hearst, but thank you for your kind offer."

He smiled at her in return. "The pleasure is all mine."

XXXX

Dolly had been giving him funny looks all morning, much to Al's disconcertion. She normally kept out of his way so there was nothing new there, but something in her glance was amiss and he couldn't quite put his finger on what it was. If he had indeed fucked her, so addled by liquor that he had no memory of it, so be it. As he had himself declared, given that he and Catherine were no longer wed, there was nothing to feel ashamed of, not that fucking a whore had ever caused hm to feel such an emotion. But he had fucked her before, long before making Catherine his wife, and something was definitely different.

It was a good few hours before Dan returned from his quest to find out Hearst's business and by the time the other man darkened the Gem doorway, Al was beginning to grow impatient. "How hard can it be to find out some fucking simple information?" he asked as Dan approached him. "Or have you been on some errand of your own on my time?"

"No sir," Dan replied. "Just took me some time to find out everything I figured you'd want to know."

"Well don't keep me in fucking suspense."

"They're leaving tomorrow morning, first thing."

"Tomorrow?" Al glanced at the clock above the bar, the hands already slipping past three o'clock. "How early's first thing?"

"On the first stage, so I reckon six, maybe seven at the latest."

"What's his fucking rush?"

"Word is he's signing the papers with Mrs Ellsworth this afternoon. After that, he's got no need to stay here any longer." Dan poured himself a drink and downed it in one. "Catherine's still planning on going with them."

"Did you hear me ask about her?" Al said.

"No, but I just figured…"

"Don't figure anything, Dan, don't make fucking assumptions. I asked to know Hearst's plans, not hers. Fact is, what she does don't concern me anymore and neither should it." He took a drink from the bottle and then glanced back over to where Dolly was lounging by the piano. "Have you seen her look at me funny today?"

"Dolly?"

"No, the Queen of fucking Sheba, of course Dolly! Been giving me strange looks since first this morning. I'm half beginning to wonder if she didn't slip me something last night that made me liable for conversation."

"What the fuck do you think you might have said?"

"Honestly Dan, I haven't a fucking clue. But whatever's going on, I'll get it out of her one way or another." He turned as Silas approached from the kitchen. "Are you fit to undertake an errand on my behalf?"

"Depends what it is," the other man replied.

Al reached into his top pocket, pulled out Catherine's wedding ring and deposited it onto the bar. "At a convenient moment between now and sunup, I would ask that you give this to the former Mrs Swearengen."

Silas looked down at the gold band. "What makes you think she'd want it?"

"Most likely she wouldn't, at least not for the purpose for which it was intended. But she might have need to sell it, or barter with it or use it to her advantage at some time or another." Al paused on the other man's hesitation. "You take issue with my request?"

"No sir," he lifted the ring and slipped it into his own pocket. "Before sunup?"

"She leaves the camp first thing tomorrow morning. I'd have it in her hand sooner rather than later." Silas nodded and headed for the door, Al's gaze moving once more to Dolly, lounging at the prospect of business. "You!" he pointed at her. "Upstairs, now!"

XXXX

"So, this is farewell, huh?" Doc ushered Catherine into the clinic and closed the door behind her. "I heard a rumour, but I didn't believe it."

"Well it's fucking true," she replied, glancing around his quarters. "I leave this place Doc in search of a better life."

"And you think you'll find one in San Francisco?"

"It's got to be better than staying here."

He cocked his head on one side like a bird, "What's Al going to do without you?"

The question seemed ludicrous and she had to stop herself from descending into peals of laughter. "What Al has always done, exactly as he fucking pleases. I doubt he'll feel my leaving any."

"I wouldn't be so sure about that."

Catherine shook her head, "There are things, so many things of which you can't know, Doc. But if you did, I'm sure that you would feel as I do. Lies that have been told to me, emotions that have been feigned, acts done to bend my will…" she broke off. "I've allowed myself to be fucking used by that man and it stops now."

Doc paused. "He told you then."

"Told me what?"

"About what really happened to you that night in the alley outside the Bella Union."

Catherine stared at him, a horrible realisation flooding her. "You knew. You knew all along." He nodded. "Well, why would I expect anything fucking less of you, Doc? You're in his employ after all, one of his fucking minions!" She made for the door. "I thought better of you than to keep something like this from me and encourage me to remain with a man who had so little regard for me!"

"I had no knowledge of it until you accidentally wounded him these months past!" he called after her. "As he lay there, thinking he was breathing his last, he told me what he had done and said that, were he to die, you should hear the truth."

She turned to face him. "Only he didn't die. I didn't kill him and so the truth was never told until now?"

"Afterwards, I counselled him that you deserved to know. But it was not my place to tell you myself." He paused. "I know that he finally confessed all to you when he thought you to be on your deathbed."

"Not so as I would remember. How fucking convenient for him."

"Catherine…" he stepped towards her. "I know Al, perhaps even better than you do despite you're having spent the longer time with him, and I know what I see. He has borne the regret of those actions ever since you two came together."

"How could he care anything for me and not tell me this until now?" she demanded. "Even if I believed that, at the time, he had no regard for me, why would he not confess it once we had made a vow? I might have better understood it. I might…" she shook her head, the full knowledge still capable of leaving her reeling when she considered it. "And then to…to cast me out…"

"An act done out of powerful emotion if nothing else."

"…to expect me to stay in the camp and…and be nothing to him…" she shook her head, willing away the tears. "I am better in leaving the camp if for no other reason than to clear my head before deciding what to do with the rest of my fucking life."

"What happened to your face?"

"Nothing. I fell."

"I see."

"It wasn't Al, if that's what you're fucking thinking. And wouldn't it make no sense for him to strike me if he cares for me as you claim he does?"

"I didn't say nothing about it being Al…"

"I thank you for the kindness you have shown me when required Doc," she turned for the door, "but your knowledge of such matters only makes it clearer to me that my decision to leave is the right one." Before he could say anything further, she threw open the door and hurried out into the thoroughfare, colliding squarely with Silas as she did so.

"You oughta watch where you're going," he said good-naturedly.

"What a surprise," she said acerbically. "You're fucking following me."

"That ain't the way of it."

"No?" she started to walk away from him, and he fell into step beside her. "I've had all the dealings with the Gem that I wish, thank you."

"I thought we were supposed to be friends. Didn't I tell you I was your friend?"

"Did you know?" she rounded on him. "Did you know about what he did?"

"I don't know what…"

"The night I was attacked. Did you know that it was done under his orders?" Silas stared at her. "You do surprise me. I thought he had all of you right where he wanted you, doing his fucking bidding. Just like I used to do." She shivered slightly despite the afternoon heat.

"I didn't know," he said. "I swear to God I had no idea. Why would he…?"

"To frighten me into either selling my share of the Gem or marrying him," she shook her head. "Crazy thing is…maybe if it had never happened, I might never have felt for him what I did, what I do…"

"Here. He wanted me to give you this." Silas reached into his pocket and then held up her wedding band. "He figured you might need it some day."

Catherine took it from him, the gold glistening in the sunshine. She remembered the day, not long past, when it was slipped onto her finger, when she couldn't have imagined anything better than being joined with Al. "He wants me to sell it?"

"He didn't say that, he just said you might need it."

"Same fucking thing." She slipped it into her purse. "Thank you. I guess I shouldn't be taking any of this out on you. I just feel…" she broke off, unsure as to how she really felt, especially in light of what had happened the previous night.

"What happened to your face?"

She sighed and closed her eyes. "Nothing. I fell."

XXXX

"So, you want to tell me what all the funny looks are about?" Dolly's gaze shifted nervously about the room. "You been looking at me strange all day since you left my bed and I'm fucking curious as to the meaning behind it. Did I fuck you last night beyond you sucking my prick?" She nodded. "So what's the fucking issue? Ain;t I fucked you in the past without such reaction?"

"You don't remember?"

"I clearly imbibed more than is usual given that my memory of the occasion is, shall we say, somewhat lacking, but unless I did a handstand against the wall whilst inside you, I fail to see…"

"You said her name."

"Whose name?"

"Catherine's. You said her name when you came and…"

"And what?" She stayed silent and he moved towards her, taking her roughly by the shoulders and shaking her at the notion she had information she was unwilling to impart. "And what?!"

"You said that you loved her, that you wanted her, needed her...you said you wanted her to come back…" The words came tumbling out and Dolly trembled, clearly fearful of what he might say or do. "You ain't never…before…"

Her revelation was hardly a surprise to him. Hadn't Catherine been the subject of his every waking thought for days? Didn't he question his decision over and over again whenever he thought of her leaving the camp? It was only natural that, in the heat of some kind of passion and with a head full of whisky he might release some of those feelings.

"And what the fuck do you care what I fucking say when I fuck you?" he demanded, unwilling to show the whore he cared about her revelation. "You're there to perform a fucking physical service not button back your ears and store up words for a future conversation piece." He pushed her away from him and turned to look back upon the bed, the scene of so much. "Liquor tends to bring out the truth in a person, but I have to harken back to my earlier question and repeat, why the fuck do you care what I say?"

"Because…because you made her leave." He turned back around to face her as she shrank back from him. "You stopped fucking her and…and you made her leave with what you said. She loves you and you made her fucking leave and it was a fucking mistake."

It was probably the most words he had ever heard her say strung together and he could only imagine how terrified she felt at saying them to him and yet admire her for her gumption in so doing. "You think she still cares for me? You think her leaving was a fucking mistake?"

Dolly frowned slightly, as though confused as to why he was asking her the question. "Don't you?"

"Yeah," he sighed heavily. "I fucking do, but it's too fucking late now."

"Why?"

"Because she's leaving the camp tomorrow and even if I were to tell her, ask her, beg her to reconsider…chances are she would tell me to go fuck myself."

"Wouldn't be the first time."

"No…no, it fucking wouldn't." He turned to look at her again. Though she wouldn't have been his first choice at confidante, she was there and that was all that really mattered. "Tell me this then, seeing as you appear to have a fucking opinion on the matter above your station, what would you have me do?"

"Tell her the truth," Dolly said, as though it was obvious.

"And hope for the fucking best, huh?" He sighed again and moved over to his desk, pulling open the bottom drawer and taking out a fresh bottle. "Get the fuck back downstairs. Evening crowd are going to be in soon and I want more than five dollars made by you tonight." She stole away hurriedly and he drank greedily before pausing for breath. "Fucking whore," he shook his head. "I need to learn to keep a fucking diary."

XXXX

"If you've come here seeking my fucking blessing you can fuck off," Trixie said angrily as Catherine approached her station at the bank. "I don't know why the fuck you're making this decision but it's a fucking stupid one. The latest in a long line of fucking stupid decisions and I hope you spend every day of the rest of your fucking life in fucking San Francisco realising that."

"Have you fucking finished?" Catherine asked. "I came to bid you farewell not open up a discussion on my decision."

"Mrs Fucking Ellsworth sold her fucking claim to fucking Hearst for you! And what fucking thanks does she get for that except you deciding to leave the fucking camp with him!"

"One isn't connected to the other!"

"No? Would you have left if she hadn't sold her claim? Would you have been as keen to pick up your skirts and run off with him them?"

"I wasn't even aware that she had sold her claim until right this fucking minute!"

Trixie paused. "You mean Al didn't tell you?"

"Al knows then."

"Of course he fucking knows! He was the instrument of the agreement! And he was here in the immediate aftermath when Mrs Ellsworth came from seeing Hearst, all upset because of what had transpired between them."

It was Catherine's turn to pause at the news, memories of her own interactions with Hearst fresh in her mind. "What transpired between them?"

"He threatened her, and Sofia and Ellsworth. Much in the same way as I imagine he threatened you before Al. Only now the claim's sold and he ain't got no reason to threaten you anymore, has he?"

Catherine looked down at the floor, almost wishing that when it came to Hearst it was that simple. "I guess not."

Trixie paused and then came around the desk. "Why the fuck are you leaving?"

"Why?" Catherine looked at her. "Why do you think? He doesn't want me anymore. He never did, Trixie, I was a means to a fucking end of sorts."

"He let you keep your half of the Gem when you wed. He gave you your half back when you parted. What fucking end did that get him that he didn't have before?"

"You don't know him…"

"I don't know him? I don't know him?" Trixie looked at her with incredulity. "You actually think it right to make that fucking statement to me? I, who lay under him for years before you ever deigned to do so. I, who took blows to my mug from him on more than one occasion when he was displeased. I, who have whored for him for longer than I can remember. I don't know him?"

"I didn't mean…I don't…" Catherine stuttered, reminded of how fortunate she had been never to have walked in the other woman's shoes and yet still convinced as to how she had been wronged. She was poised to reveal Al's involvement in her misfortune when she realised that there was no point. Trixie was loyal to a fault when it came to Al, despite everything and she wasn't sure she could bear to hear any kind of justification from her. "He no longer wants me," she said, choosing to stay on safer ground. "We've dissolved our union and there ain't no fucking reason for me to stay here."

"You're a fucking coward," Trixie said. "And you're stupid if you think you're going to have a better life with Hearst."

"I ain't running away with Hearst! I'm accompanying him and his wife and they're going to help me get established in the city, that's all there is to it!"

"That's never all there is to it and you know that." Trixie shook her head. "You should have fought harder."

Catherine touched her face self-consciously, believing for a moment the remark made was in reference to an event the other woman couldn't have known about. "I fought…"

"No you didn't. You let him tell you that was an end to it and you ran away. You ran away to Shaughnessy's and you're running away now. You should have given him fucking time to get over what happened to you, to realise that it weren't his fault, to understand that he still needed you."

"And how much time was I supposed to give him, Trixie? How long was I supposed to wait to see if he would change towards me?"

"Well I guess we'll never fucking know now, will we?"

Catherine stepped back, feeling tears prick in her eyes. "No, I guess we won't. Well, I came to say farewell and I guess I've done that."

"I guess you have."

She turned and opened the door, pausing briefly to look back. "Please give Mrs Ellsworth my thanks for the decision she made." Trixie said nothing, so she closed the door behind her and stepped back out into the thoroughfare, her eyes straying automatically to the Gem balcony. To her surprise, Dolly was there, leaning over and looking down into the camp. Their gazes met briefly before the other woman turned and walked back inside.


	17. Chapter 17

August 9th 1876

Dear Al,

I write you this letter and yet I confess as to be unsure as to its purpose. I suppose perhaps there are words said better on paper than in person and I wanted to make an account of myself to you before leaving the camp.

I have loved you, perhaps more than you have deserved. I have revelled in your looks and your touch and your desire for me. In that, perhaps I have been no better than a whore, yet I make no apology for it. You, who at one time I could not have imagined caring for as I do, became everything to me, the reason for my being. Despite all that I now know, despite all that you have shared with me about deeds long past, I feel that for you still. I regret the path taken. I regret actions undertaken. I regret all of it. My decision to leave the camp was one made in the aftermath of your declaration that we could no longer be united and that I would require to live, to all effect and purpose, without you. I cannot do that. I cannot remain where you are and not be a part of you, as you are a part of me. I cannot walk the thoroughfare and look up at the balcony. I cannot imagine who might sleep within the bedchamber I once called my own. I cannot live as I once did.

So, I make good my escape. I take the opportunity offered to me not only by Mr Hearst but by your own hand in giving me my share of what was ours. And yet, I am afraid. I am afraid of what the future holds and the people with whom I have chosen to share it. I am afraid of so many things to the point where I question if the course I have chosen is the right one, or if instead, I am simply heading towards disaster.

I ask this of you. Be honest in your feelings, your true feelings for me, not the feelings you think are best for me. Do this now, before I take a course I may be unable to alter. I beg you.

Yours,

Catherine

Catherine finished writing her words, signed her name and then slid the paper into the envelope, sealing it and ascribing Al's name to the front. Sitting back in the chair, she let out a long breath and gazed down at the many crumpled balls on the floor at her feet. It had taken hours to commit what she wanted to say to paper, brief though it was, and she felt exhausted from the effort. There had seemed little point in attempting to sleep given the thoughts in her head and, as dawn now started to break over the camp, she rose and stretched, glancing at her coat and purse laid neatly on the bed. Her remaining possessions, few though they were, had already been transported to the hotel by Charlie Utter, a favour she had asked, and he had been more than willing to grant. She had considered asking Silas, but somehow aligning herself with anyone too closely connected to the Gem at this point seemed only liable to cause further pain.

The clock on the wall showed that she had but less than an hour before she too was due at the hotel to climb aboard the stagecoach that would take her far away from Deadwood, far away from Al, and to the beginning of a new life. Unless…she slid the letter into her pocket and stepped outside into the humid morning air. Locking the door behind her, she made her way from Shaughnessy's into the main thoroughfare, contemplating her options.

She couldn't go to the Gem herself and there were few people that she would trust to deliver the letter in her stead or impose the task upon. Having quarrelled with both Doc and Trixie the previous day it would seem insincere to ask either of them to perform the task she required, and Jewel rarely ventured outside so as to be put upon. As she stood on the corner, she saw E.B. come out of the hotel and disappear in the direction of Chinks Alley. He was out of the question as a potential messenger too, for she wouldn't have trusted him not to read the letter himself before delivery. Him being absent from the hotel however gave her an idea and she hurried towards the main door, lest he quickly return.

"Why Miss McCord!" she froze at the doorway as Hearst came down the stairs towards her, the same smile on his face that he had worn the previous day. "You are certainly keen to leave this camp, are you not?"

"I…"

"You're but an hour early. Won't you join me for some breakfast before we depart?"

"No, thank you," she replied. "I was just…looking for someone is all."

"Mr Farnum left but moments ago."

"He wasn't the one I sought. Please excuse me." She moved past him through into the kitchen area where she came upon Richardson scuttling back and forth carrying plates. "Richardson?"

He paused at her voice and quickly lowered his eyes. "Yes Ma'am."

"Richardson…" she stepped forwards. "I was hoping that you might be able to assist me in a matter of great importance." He said nothing. "I require this letter to be delivered to Al…Mr Swearengen…at the Gem."

"Oh no," Richardson shook his head. "I couldn't do that."

"I'm not asking you to speak with him directly. I'm only asking that you take the letter there and pass it to Jewel. You know Jewel, don't you?" He nodded. "Well then. If you could pass the letter to her and ask her to thereafter pass it to Mr Swearengen, I would be most grateful." She reached into her purse and pulled out some coins. "Most grateful."

He took the money from her, slid it into his pocket and then held out his hand for the letter. "I'll take your letter."

"Thank you." She handed it to him. "Will you go now?"

"Mr Farnum don't like me leaving."

"Mr Farnum ain't here right now. I saw him leave but moments before I entered. Please," she pressed. "I would be grateful if you could go now." After a long moment, he nodded and then moved past her out of the kitchen. "Thank you," she called after him. Slowly, so as not to draw any association between them, she followed his path and made her way back outside into the thoroughfare. She watched as he scuttled across the way and approached the door of the Gem, before turning and returning to Shaughnessy's.

XXXX

Dan had just sat down to breakfast when the knock came at the front door. He ignored it, preferring instead to fill his stomach and hoping that whoever it was would realise it was too early to be drinking or fucking and would desist. But the knocking continued, until he felt forced to throw down his cutlery, stride over to the door and throw it open. "What the fuck do you want?" To his surprise, he saw Richardson on the other side of the threshold, his head down, holding up what looked suspiciously like a letter. "Richardson. Bit early for you, ain't it?"

"I've to give this to Jewel," the other man said.

"What, this letter?" Dan plucked it out of his hand and, turning it over, saw that it was addressed to Al. "It ain't for her."

"I've to give it to Jewel to give to Mr Swearengen."

Dan paused. "Who's it from? E.B? Hearst?"

"Mrs Swearengen."

"You mean Miss McCord," Dan corrected him. "They ain't wed no more. What the fuck is she doing asking you to deliver messages to Al through Jewel?"

"I don't know. She just asked me," Richardson replied, his head still down.

Dan glanced around the thoroughfare, but could see no sign of the woman in question. "All right. I'll take it."

"I've to give it to Jewel," he repeated.

"And I'll give it to fucking Jewel, now get the fuck back to the hotel." He slammed the door before the other man could say anything else and then turned the letter over in his hand again. A letter from Catherine to Al. What information could it impart? He held it up to the light in the vain hope of being able to read her prose, but was left wanting.

As he stood, contemplating what action he should take, Jewel came shuffling out of the kitchen carrying a coffee pot. "Who was doing all the hollering at the door?" she asked.

"No-one," Dan replied, stuffing the letter into his back pocket. "No-one at all."

XXXX

He wasn't sure why he was there and yet he had made the journey at daybreak anyway. Memories of his past visits were fresh in his mind. Visions of how he had begged for her life to be spared even in the belief that there was no afterlife and that a mound of earth could do nothing to assist in times of peril, had plagued him the previous night and he had been unable to help wondering if relaying his thoughts once more to his oldest friend might, in some small way, change the course of what was to come.

"You find me here again," he said upon approaching the grave. "I guess you might have thought my previous visit to you would have been my last given that, at that time, I felt you had offered no sign of assistance in a time of trouble. But, when I returned to the Gem after our last conversation, she turned a corner. She came back to us, hence my coming to you once more." He paused. "She's leaving the camp. Sees fortune and opportunity elsewhere, though she goes with a man of little character that would commend him and every fucking opportunity in the world to harm her. So, what should I do? Should I, as the whore suggested, tell her my true feelings? Tell her that I care for her more than she will ever understand? That words said were uttered out of fear for her life?"

He looked out across the hills. "I fear lying with her, I fear having her with child and I fear hastening an end to her that she doesn't fucking deserve. But do those fears live in perpetuity? Could there be a way to overcome them? Should I be attempting to do so or should I remain resolute in my previous decision? Even if I were now to ask her to stay, would she agree? I told her the truth of what occurred that night, told her I was the instrument of her misfortune which she, unsurprisingly, took ill out. Would I simply be making a fool of myself were I to try and convince her that things are so altered now from what they were before and that I would kill anyone who laid hand to her?"

He crouched in front of the grave. "I should have taken knife to that cocksucker Hearst the moment he threatened her life. I should have forbidden her from having anything further to do with his wife. I should have stopped her from making fool-hardy decisions…" he sighed heavily. "There are so many things that I should have done. And now she leaves and, with you gone, I find myself without those I thought of as kin. Perhaps I am better off." He straightened up again. "I cannot ask her to stay. I cannot see the look in her eyes when she rejects me. No, she'll have to come to me. She'll have to tell me her truth, her real truth. That's the only way this plays out to a happy outcome." He turned back in the direction of the camp. "And I hope she fucking does."

XXXX

"What are you looking so fucking disconcerted about?" Silas asked as Dan walked back and forth in front of the bar. "You been pacing like a cat this last hour."

"Nothing."

"You sure? Seem awful agitated about something."

"I ain't agitated about anything, Adams," Dan shot back. "Quit with your fucking interrogation!"

"My apologies," Silas held up his hands. "I made an error."

"Yeah, you fucking did." Dan turned as Al walked back into the saloon. "Where you been, boss?"

"Up at Travis's grave, not that it's any of your fucking business," Al replied, pouring himself some coffee from the pot on the bar. "Anything I should know about in my absence?" It was an innocent enough question, but he knew the answer that he wanted.

"Not a goddamn thing."

"I'm pleased to hear it," he lied as Jewel came out of the kitchen. "Why are you dragging your fucking leg? Didn't Doc make you some sort of boot to stop you pissing me off with that thing?"

"It needs fixing," she replied. "And there was someone banging at the door earlier."

Al turned to look at Dan, attempting to keep his expression neutral. The other man shook his head. "It was nobody."

"Nobody? We got ghosts roaming the camp playing tricks on us now?"

"Well…it was just Richardson," Dan replied.

"Banging on the door? Was he seeking whisky or snatch?"

"Neither. He was just…I mean…" Dan floundered.

"Oh, fucking spare me," Al said, filling his cup again and heading for the stairs before pausing to look back. "No…other visitors that I should know about?"

"No boss, not a one."

"Fine. I'll be in my office and I only want to be disturbed by one person."

"Who's that then?" Dan asked.

"Don't worry," Al said, making his way along the balcony. "You'll know."

XXXX

It was time.

She had thought it might never come, had foolishly believed that upon delivery of her letter to Al he would have appeared at her door and given her every reason in the world to change her plans. There had been no visit, not from anyone and now, as the time came for her to depart, she looked at herself in the looking glass and wondered if she was doing the right fucking thing. Maybe she should stay, in spite of Al if not because of him and yet…the thought of living this life, her current life, cast out from what she had called home filled her with more dread than any journey with Hearst ever could.

Her knife was safely secreted once more in the lining of her dress, close at hand should she need it. Taking a breath she tried to push away Joanie's caution that he would repeat his advances towards her, that there may come a time when she would wound or kill him or have to acquiesce to his demands. The thought sent a shiver through her and she tried to focus on something more positive instead. A new life. A life away from Deadwood. A life filled with opportunities she would never have in the camp. The chance to meet and perhaps marry someone who loved her the way her father had loved her mother. Perhaps, there may even be children in her future. She was twenty-two. Only twenty-two. So much of life was still before her.

Shaughnessy barely looked at her as she returned her key and she knew that he was probably relieved at her leaving. Holding her head high she made the walk towards the hotel, clutching her purse tightly to avoid the obvious sight of her shaking hands. As she approached, Joanie emerged from the Bella Union and hurried over to greet her.

"I hate goodbyes," she said, "but I couldn't let you go without one."

"Take care of yourself, Joanie," she said, hugging the other woman.

"And you," Joanie replied pointedly. "Don't trade one bad situation for another."

"I won't," she replied as brightly as she could. "I'll write to you."

"I look forward to it."

Writing. It clearly had had little effect in the camp and she purposefully kept her eyes away from the Gem balcony as the stagecoach horses skittered and pawed the ground outside the hotel. Hearst came striding out, deep in conversation with another man, followed closely by Phoebe, who lit up when she saw her and hurried forwards.

"Catherine, my dear! I am so delighted that we are making this journey together," she squeezed her arm affectionately. "I could barely sleep last night for thinking about it. Are all of your possessions on board?"

She looked at the trunks piled carefully onto the coach and recognised her own meagre offerings. "Yes, they're there."

"Wonderful. Well, I must say that I doubt I will miss this camp. I know it must cause you some melancholy to leave, but I promise you that once we are in San Francisco you will forget all about Deadwood and wonder why in the Lord's name you were ever content to settle here." She beamed as her husband approached them. "George, are we ready to depart."

"Yes, my dear. Allow me to assist you into the coach." He held out his arm and Phoebe grasped it. Catherine watched as he led her around to the open door and helped her inside. As he did so, she felt her gaze being pulled upwards, her heart hammering in her chest at what she might see when she looked upon the balcony.

He was there. He was there like he so often was, leaning against the balustrade, watching over the camp and all its activities. He was looking directly at her and her stomach churned as their gazes locked. He made no move, no sign, no flicker of emotion. He just watched her as she did him.

"Tell me to stay," she whispered, more to herself than to anyone else. "You read my letter. Tell me to stay. Tell me to stay and I will." He remained unmoving and she fought back hot tears of anger, frustration and grief.

As they stood, their eyes still upon each other, Hearst appeared at her side and followed her gaze upwards. "Mr Swearengen."

"Mr Hearst."

"I take my leave of the camp now, no doubt to your relief. I must say that I have found my time here most enlightening. I believe the camp will benefit greatly from my continued investment, not least of all in my ownership of the largest gold claim in the territory. And we, Mrs Hearst and myself, benefit greatly from the ongoing companionship of our new acquaintance." He turned back and held out his hand to her. "Miss McCord?"

She screamed silently, her eyes still on her former husband trying, and seemingly failing, to get him to understand, to act. He still made no move to opine either way on her chosen course.

"Catherine?" Phoebe called to her from within the coach and she broke her gaze with Al to glance towards her. "Is everything all right?"

There was clearly no other choice. "Yes, everything's fine." She accepted Hearst's proffered hand and allowed him to guide her over and into the coach where she sat, her back to the direction of travel, her eyes straying once more to the Gem balcony.

"Don't be downhearted my dear," Phoebe said, reaching across and patting her knee. "Out of sight, out of mind as they say."

"Yes. As they say."

She felt the coach sag as Hearst swung himself up to sit beside the driver and fought hard against the urge to wrench open the door and leap out to God only knew what. Al straightened up and she thought, for a brief moment, that he might make some move, some gesture. But the horses started to move and as she kept her eyes on him, he grew smaller and smaller in the distance until the balcony was obscured, and then they were leaving the camp and entering the hills and she watched until the very last vestige of Deadwood was gone.

XXXX

"I guess that's fucking that," Silas said, kicking the dirt with his boot.

"I guess it fucking is," Dan replied, his gaze on the rapidly disappearing stagecoach as it rumbled out of the camp and made west. When he could see it no longer, he looked up to the balcony where Al stood and watched as his boss turned, briefly met his gaze and then stepped back inside, slamming the balcony door behind him.

Reaching into his back pocket, he pulled out the letter, slightly more crumpled than it had been, but still intact. He looked at it for a long moment, then wandered over to a nearby firepit and dropped it in.

"For the fucking best," he said, as the paper was consumed by the flames. "The absolute fucking best."

THE END


End file.
